


Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream

by Bounemr



Category: DCU, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Guardian Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Happy Ending, Hints of Kryptonian Language feat. Darren Doyle's Kryptonian, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, POV Jonathan Samuel Kent, POV Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Post-Heroism, also of Kryptonian culture, marijon, not a lot tho and im not trying to make whole sentences or anything lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 93,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bounemr/pseuds/Bounemr
Summary: MariJon college roommates AU. Marinette and Jon have decided to give up being heroes in favor of an ordinary life. This story follows them throughout their college careers, and their mutual journey to find what life holds for them without heroism.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Jonathan Samuel Kent, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Jonathan Samuel Kent
Comments: 171
Kudos: 311





	1. The skyscrapers look down on us like a bird under bars.

It’s over.

So many years, so many enemies, so many battles… and it’s over. Marinette’s body feels like jelly unable to support its own weight as she stands there. _It’s over._ Marinette fights the tears in her eyes. Already it’s hard not to lose her grip on the butterfly Miraculous in her hand. _It’s finally over._

There’s a soft, breathy laugh from her partner. Chat Noir leans heavily on her, as she leans on him. “We did it.” He says. “We did it!”

“We did it.” Marinette agrees. She sniffs back her tears, steels her heart, and sighs. “Come on, _chaton_. We’re done here.”

Chat Noir smiles gently at her. He and Marinette both spare Lila another look, but no more than that. “After you, my love.” Chat says.

Lila raves at them. She spits and screams and throws every vicious insult she can at them, but in the end, Lila is in handcuffs going the way of Gabriel. In the end, the butterfly Miraculous is finally back where it belongs. And with the box complete, no one can use the Miraculous for evil any longer. Not so long as Marinette is still guardian over it.

But Marinette… Marinette is so tired. All the fighting, every battle, just one after another, over and over. The secrets. The fame. The responsibility. The expectations. Marinette is so tired of fighting. She’s tired of being perfect for the people. She’s still human.

When they take down Gabriel, there is a whole celebration. The butterfly Miraculous eludes them, of course, to ultimately land in Lila’s hands, and Nathalie escapes as well, though without the peafowl Miraculous, but there is still a celebration. Hawk Moth is taken down. One great evil defeated, so it’s only a matter of time before the next is, too. It renews faith, proves to the people that their heroes are the paragons they’re meant to be. For Marinette, it is a failure. For Adrien, it is losing his family. Marinette still doesn’t quite forgive Paris for celebrating something so horrible.

She wonders, will they celebrate this? It’s over. Ladybug has retrieved the Miraculous. The source of the power that allows those evils to do what they do. Gabriel and Lila. Selfish, cruel, short-sighted, villains the both of them. But their power is gone. It’s in Marinette’s hands now. That’s something to celebrate. Marinette just really doesn’t feel like celebrating.

Right now, she just wants to see the butterfly Miraculous in its rightful place in the box, Nooroo to reunite with the rest of the kwami, and to sleep. So that’s what she does. In near silence, she makes her way back to her apartment, pulls out the hidden Miracle Box, puts Nooroo back where he belongs, smiles at the kwami’s excitement to be together again, and crawls feebly into bed beside Adrien.

Adrien wraps her up in his arms, happily holding her close and whispering cheery words to her. He’s excited, and rightly so. Lila has been a thorn in their sides for more than just her reign with the butterfly Miraculous, and for much longer, too. To see her finally land herself in jail is satisfying in a way that Gabriel’s arrest still isn’t. Adrien is so happy right now, nuzzling into her and giggling and peppering her with victory kisses. It’s more than enough to make her smile. Marinette slips into sleep there in his arms, curled up where she belongs.

* * *

Marinette stares at the letter in her hand, not quite sure yet how to feel about it. The letter is great news! Yet… something ugly writhes inside her. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just staring at the words – not reading, just staring – slowly being eaten alive by that ugly thing in her gut.

“I’m home!”

Marinette jumps, quickly folding the letter and slipping it into one of the pockets of her nearby coats and closing the closet door on it. The reaction is purely on instinct, and that only makes that ugly thing inside her grow larger. She doesn’t have time to reconsider, though, before Adrien pokes his head into their room. “How’re you doing, my lady?” He asks with an easy grin. “Did your acceptance letters come yet?”

Marinette nervously glances away, to the closet, and hesitantly shakes her head. “No. Should be any day now, though, right? If I get in.”

“Oh, you’ll get in.” Adrien chuckles. “I know they’re competitive, but you’re _you_. You’re a hero, remember? You’re literally miraculous! And you’re best fashion designer in the world.”

Marinette ducks her head to hide her blush, even as Adrien approaches to hug her. “I’m not…”

“Yes, you are! You’re Ladybug! You can do anything, and if those dummies at IFM or ESMOD or wherever don’t see that, then they don’t deserve you. You’re already successful, so you’d only make them regret turning you down by being the bigshot in fashion you already are. None of those universities are dumb enough to turn you down. The real question is which one you’re going to pick!”

Marinette laughs, a tad humorlessly. _Isn’t that the truth?_ “Adrien…” She says, “I…”

Adrien just smiles at her and takes her hand. “Come on, my lady. Let’s go patrol. It’ll take your mind off while we wait.”

“I…” Marinette tries again. Words just don’t come to her. She can’t tell him that she doesn’t want to patrol. She can’t tell him that being Ladybug isn’t the honor it once was. She can’t tell him that she hates being a vigilante. (Hero, he and Paris keeps saying, but without a Miraculous-powered villain, they’re tackling regular crime and that makes her a vigilante, whether Paris agrees or not.) She can’t tell him that she’s starting to hate Paris itself. Fighting Hawk Moth is one thing, handling Miraculous problems is one thing, but Marinette always thought, back when that was happening, that when she beat Hawk Moth that would be the end of it. Every moment Adrien and Paris demand more from her is another that she resents Ladybug just a little more. “Okay.” So, she just agrees and transforms and goes out on the rooftops with her partner.

And, for a while, it takes her mind off of everything. She soars through the air and dances across the rooftops like she was born there, and she and Chat Noir break up some minor crime. Catch a pickpocket, stop a mugging, help an old lady across the street. It’s busy work, and it does keep her mind occupied, but it makes her heart heavy.

She’s sick of people calling for Ladybug like she’s some god among men who can be omnipresent and solve everything for everyone. She’s sick of fighting, of the adrenaline she gets when she sees a knife, or of the chase of some thief trying foolishly to escape. She’s sick of sacrificing her time and effort and safety for increasingly diminishing returns. It’s just not satisfying to her to stop a robbery. Not enough to justify dressing up and seeking them out. Not anymore. It’s cruel of her to think so, but sometimes she wishes that these people could just defend themselves.

Chat Noir ironically lights up when he dons his dark costume. It’s when he’s clad in black that he truly shines. He’s a true hero, a born hero. It’s worth it for him. He’s not sacrificing anything, because being a hero is what he’s meant to be. That’s why Marinette hasn’t told him yet. That’s why she can’t find the words to tell him that she doesn’t want to do this anymore.

They return to their apartment tired as always and feeling like they’ve done good. Adrien is cuddly. He always is after patrol. He’s touchy anyway, but in the afterglow of fighting crime there’s nothing he wants more than to cuddle up with his girlfriend. Marinette has no problem with that, of course, except when he gets a little clingy and interrupts her when she’s trying to work, but she usually is too tired to work right after patrol anyway. That’s just for when she’s bogged down.

Marinette lays in bed listening to Adrien’s sweet nothings, hyperaware of the letter in the closet that he still doesn’t know about. She has to talk to him about it, but how will he react? Will he be mad that she hid this from him? That she applied to schools abroad without telling him because she secretly wants to be anywhere but Paris? Will he be disappointed in her, for shirking her responsibility as one of Paris’ heroes by leaving their city to fend for itself without her? Will he and the kwami hate her for putting such selfish desires over her duties to them as the guardian?

How is she supposed to be Marinette, when Ladybug demands so much of her? Is it so wrong to want to walk away from it all? If people get hurt that she could save if she stays a hero, is that blood on her hands? Is she even allowed to be Marinette at all, or is she only Ladybug?

Marinette goes to sleep thinking that she’s starting to hate Ladybug, too.

* * *

“Marinette! It came! It came!” Marinette jumps up from her work when Adrien comes running into the room. He’s breathless, clothes and hair a mess, but he’s glowing and holding a small envelope proudly. “From IFM! Come on, Mari, open it!”

He shoves the letter into her stunned hands and sits eagerly, waiting for her to open it. Marinette examines the letter carefully. Plain, white, with their address and her name and _Institut Français de la Mode_ ’s seal printed boldly on it. Such a small, delicate little thing, holding her entire future inside it.

There’s no more avoiding this. Marinette realizes staring at the letter. Dread bubbles up inside her. If she’s accepted, then she’s going to have to tell Adrien that she isn’t sure she wants to accept. If she’s not, then she’s only delaying the inevitable until the next letter comes. She’ll only be playing along as Adrien sits with her to look through even more schools to apply to. More schools in Paris. Only in Paris.

The gentlest of hands cover her own, and Adrien’s loving green eyes bore into her. “It’s okay. Only one way to know, right? I’ll help you, if you want.”

Marinette shakes her head. Sweet, sweet Adrien. He’s the love of her life, but… he just can’t understand that acceptance isn’t why she’s scared to open this letter. She’s scared because the last one she opened changed everything and she still hasn’t figured out if she wants that change or not.

With trembling hands, Marinette breaks the seal and extracts the letter. She can’t breathe as she unfolds it. And when she reads it… she can’t finish, because she’s too busy crying.

She can feel Adrien carefully take the letter from her to read over himself, and then his ecstatic arms around her as her feet leave the ground. He lifts her, so joyful, and swings her around with a bright, clear laugh. “You got in! I told you, you would! Oh, Marinette, this is so great! I’m so happy for you!”

Marinette pats his arm as firmly as she can, a request to be put down. While she’s wiping at her eyes, Adrien seems to realize that she’s not as excited as he is. “Bugaboo? Are you okay? You don’t look ver-”

“I’ve got something to show you!” Marinette blurts out suddenly, still trying to stave off her tears.

Adrien blinks dumbly. “You- okay. What is it?”

Sniffling, Marinette guides him back to the bedroom closet, where her other letter of acceptance sits quietly hidden. She digs it out of her coat and hands it to him, too ashamed to meet his eyes. When she feels the paper slip out of her fingers, she wraps herself up tightly in her own arms and closes her eyes.

“Marinette, this is…” Adrien’s voice is so hesitant, so quiet compared to the jubilation from before. It hurts Marinette’s heart so deeply to hear. “I… Why didn’t you tell me you applied to New York? I- I mean, I’m happy for you! I am! I just… I thought…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Marinette mutters.

“I- wait, are you… are you planning to go to New York? To FIT? Is this where you really want to go?”

Marinette sighs. “I haven’t decided yet, but… I think so.”

“Oh.” There’s a long, long silence, during which all Marinette can think of is that tiny, hurt, “oh.” That realization that she isn’t what he thinks she is. That she lied to him, and that she wants to be an ocean away from their home. “I… I don’t…” Adrien sighs. “I don’t understand, but… if that’s really what you want, I… I’m here for you, Marinette. A- and hey! You got accepted! This is- this is still a great thing!”

“Adrien, I-”

Adrien laughs sharply and rubs at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I- I really am _so_ happy for you, I just… This was a… bit of a surprise. I’m… I’m going to miss you.”

Marinette surges forward to crush him in a hug. “You’re not mad at me?” She asks quietly.

“Mad? Never. I love you, Marinette. If this is what you want, I’m _proud_ of you for getting it.” He squeezes her back like he’s trying to crush her. “I’m just also sad that I won’t be able to go with you. And I… I have to ask… what about Paris? We need you. I don’t know what we’re going to do without you.”

Marinette reluctantly pulls away. “I- I have a confession to make about that, too.” She says.

The way Adrien’s eyebrows knit together tugs too hard at her heartstrings. _I’m so sorry._ “What is it?” He asks quietly, patiently.

Marinette takes a deep breath. “I… I don’t really… _want_ to be a hero anymore.”

“You… don’t?”

“I’m tired, Adrien. I hate fighting. I hate going out every night looking for trouble. I hate being an idol. I hate that everyone expects so much from me, when I don’t even want to fight in the first place.” After a long pause and a lot of sniffles, she says, “I do love the people. And I love you. And I’m so proud of you and all the good you do. I just… kind of hate Ladybug. And I don’t really like Paris much, anymore, either. I don’t want to be a hero, Adrien, I just want to be me.”

“But… you are a hero.”

“I’m not. Maybe I was, but I don’t want to be anymore. I’m tired. We got the Miraculous back, and as far as I’m concerned, I should have retired then. I never wanted this.”

Adrien bites his lip and grits his teeth, turning his gaze to the ground. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I thou- I thought we were in this together.”

“We are!” Marinette says. “That why I’ve been going along with it. For you. Not to be a hero or anything like that. Because I knew it was so important to you. I’m sorry I never mentioned it before, I just…”

“Just what? You think I’m not under pressure doing this? You think I don’t know what it’s like to have everyone expect you to be perfect? I know that being heroes is a lot to live up to, but that’s why we can’t just give up on it! We’re _important_! We accept that pressure because everyone else can’t!”

Marinette sighs. “I can’t. Not anymore. It’s too much for me. I know you know what it’s like, Adrien, I just- I’m not like you. I’m not a hero. I don’t _want_ to be a hero. I just want to be Marinette. Not Ladybug.”

“Marinette and Ladybug are the same person.” Adrien says. “You’re the same girl. One girl who’s so brave and talented and beautiful. One girl that I love. That’s _you_. You’re not two different people.”

“I know that, I- I just- I…” Marinette huffs in frustration. “I don’t know. I just want to go to school and live an ordinary life. That’s all.”

Adrien’s expression softens, and Marinette feels his hand on her shoulder. “Marinette, I… I don’t think you can. I don’t think either of us can just be ordinary anymore. I mean, you’re the guardian. There’s nothing ordinary about the kwami.” He chuckles weakly.

Marinette sighs. “I never asked to be guardian, you know. I don’t even know why Master Fu trained me for the role, and then when he actually transferred the guardianship…” She sighs. “Hey, Adrien?” She steps close again to hold him tightly, whispering into his chest. “Can I tell you a secret?”

His arms wrap around her like they’ve done a thousand times, and it eases her anxious heart. “Of course.”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“I could never be mad at you, my love.”

Marinette sniffs. “Sometimes… Sometimes I think you’d be a better guardian than me. I think I should just transfer the guardianship to you and be done with it all. Then I could… I could be normal.”

Adrien stiffens under her. “But… then you’d forget. Everything. You’d forget _me_.”

“I know.” Marinette admits.

Adrien holds her for a long, tense moment. “Oh.” He says tightly. “I see.” Marinette just hums to acknowledge him and holds him tighter. “Hey, Marinette?” Gently, he pries her off of him. Cupping her face in his hands, he kisses her, fervently, timidly, carefully. “Don’t ever forget me. If… if being a hero really is so hard for you, then… then stop. It’s okay. I understand. I want- I want you to be happy. You hear me? So… so accept your spot in New York. Go to America. I can take care of the box and Paris while you’re gone. Just go and… be normal. Okay? When you come back, then you can decide where to go from there.”

Marinette’s eyes flicker away from his. So kind and sincere and caring and… everything. It’s such a cruel thought she has, such a cruel question to pose to the man she loves and who loves her, but… it might be the most important question in this moment. “What if I don’t want to come back?”

Adrien follows her gaze to the floor. “Then… Then I’ll miss you. And I’ll be rooting for you. And I’ll be happy you’re doing what makes you happy. Maybe New York could take another hero?”

Marinette snorts. “Have you seen New York? It’s a pretty competitive market.”

Adrien laughs. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Paris would miss me, anyway. What would they do without my devilish charms?”

Giggling, Marinette enjoys that small moment. But it’s not nearly enough. “Adrien, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Adrien steals another kiss. “You’re so brave. You know what you need to do, and you’re doing it, and I couldn’t be more proud of you. That’s exactly what makes you Ladybug, you know.”

“I…” Marinette’s throat closes up. “Thank you.”

Adrien smiles, sniffles, and nods. “Anything for you.” He ducks his head. “But… if you don’t want to be involved in all of… this, then… what about us? Will I… Will you be okay with me still going out as Chat? Will you being in New York…”

“I don’t know, Adrien.” Marinette murmurs. “I don’t know. I’ll never ask you to stop being a hero, but… I just… right now, I just want to put this life behind me.”

“I understand. So, then… are you going to break up with me?” His eyes are so wide, so scared, so worried and hurt and sad and haunted.

Marinette grimaces. She wants so badly to deny it. To scream “Of course, not! I love you!” But though the latter is true, the first… Can Marinette really put heroism behind her when her boyfriend goes out to fight crime every night? Will she ever have the peace of mind she so craves, of a normal life without worrying over a city worth of trouble if her boyfriend is still involved in that trouble? Can she do that even if she doesn’t have that boyfriend? “I don’t know.” She says. The honesty sears her throat. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t… know.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not… not that bad, yet, but… I don’t know if I can live this way forever. If you’re still…”

“No, I get it.” Adrien says. “I understand. But I- I can’t give this life up. It’s… It’s everything to me. I’m… I’m sorry. I wish this was different.”

“Me too, Adrien.”

“Do you… think we can hold on?” Adrien asks softly. “Do you think, if you go to America and take a break from all this, we can survive that? Do you… want to try?”

“I want to try. I don’t know if it’ll work out, but… maybe if I get a break, it’ll be okay. I… there’s no way to tell for sure, and I… I _do_ love you. So, so much. I don’t want to break up.”

Adrien smiles. “Me neither. I want to try, too. I’ll be yours as long as you’ll have me. But… Thank you, for the time we’ve had together. If you do decide we can’t do this, I hope… I understand, and I still love you, and I want only the best for you. And, I’m sorry I can’t be who you want me to be.”

“You never need to be anyone but you, Adrien.” Marinette says. “I’m sorry I can’t be a hero like you.”

Adrien chuckles. “You’ll always be _my_ hero. Always. Just be happy. That’s all you need to do.”

* * *

Marinette accepts her spot at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. Once she does, it’s a scramble to get everything ready for her departure. Her parents help her organize everything, as does Adrien. Marinette can tell that Adrien is trying to be strong for her, but the smile he wears is unmistakably forced, and no amount of poise can hide the way he cries when he thinks she’s not watching.

It’s almost too much to leave. To leave him, her parents, her city, even the kwami. Everything she knows. Everything except her and her dream. She feels so unbelievably terrified, and yet somehow, she feels like she’s the boldest she’s ever been. To take this step into the unknown, to leave behind so much of what’s familiar, it’s a brand-new chapter in her life. There’s a lot she hopes she can keep, like Adrien, and a lot she knows she’s going to have to give up, but it’s a new step, and she’s excited to see where it takes her.

The kwami are none too happy about the thought of her making Adrien the _de facto_ guardian in all but the magic. Marinette knows he’ll be a better one than her – he’s a hero, after all, through and through, not like her who only wants to be normal – but they, like Adrien, understand where she’s coming from. They like and trust Adrien enough to accept him looking after them while she’s gone. After all, since they beat Gabriel and Adrien moved in with her, first into her parent’s bakery and later into their own apartment, he’s essentially been a second guardian already.

Tikki does insist on coming with her, though, and with Adrien and her parents arguing that her having the earrings, even if she doesn’t always wear them, will give them peace of mind that she’ll be safe all the way across the ocean, Marinette has to concede this. She doesn’t want to say goodbye to Tikki, either, but she will never be normal while she’s still with her. But her family and her boyfriend and all the kwami do have a point. Marinette doesn’t plan on wearing the earrings all the time like she used to, but if it’ll make the people she loves feel better, it’s a small enough thing to concede.

And no matter how much she wishes it, while she still remembers everything she’s been through, she’ll never be totally normal. Tikki is a beloved friend, and Marinette will be glad for her company when she’s all alone in America. Maybe, if she’s not a hero, having Tikki won’t be too bad. No one is _completely_ normal, after all.

Everyone joins in on the “send Marinette off” planning party. Her friends, her family, everyone. Alya is tearfully leading the charge on making sure everyone spends as much time with her as possible before it’s time for her to leave, and her family leads the charge on making sure everything is in order, that she’s packed and has everything she needs and that she knows what to do when she gets there. Adrien is quieter than usual, but he’s stuck to her side like glue, refusing to leave her for any longer than is necessary for his own job, and stealing intimate moments anywhere he can in the flurry of the preparations.

When the day comes for her to leave, there’s more tears. Marinette is half-afraid she’ll miss her flight because everyone wants to hug her and no one wants to let her go. It’s hard. It’s very hard. To look at the faces of the people she loves and tell them goodbye.

Adrien kisses her. Heated and tender and trembling. Only for her to hear, in a hot whisper, he says, “Don’t know if that’s the last time I’ll get to do that.”

Marinette just kisses him again. “I love you.” She says.

“I love you too, Marinette. Promise me you’ll be happy.”

“I promise. I’ll do whatever I need to to make it happen. Promise me you’ll do the same?”

“Of course, my lady. I’ll do everything I can.”

The next thing Marinette knows, she’s all alone, save for Tikki in her purse, and she’s flying high, _en route_ to America. The long journey is filled with doubt and second-guessing, but it’s too late to turn back. She’s committed, and now all she can do is find her new apartment, meet her new roommate, and make the most of life in the Big Apple.

It’s a relief to have Tikki with her when she touches down. Leaving the airport, Marinette hesitates, but Tikki’s reassurance gets her back into gear. She hails a taxi, finds her new home, and gets started. Her roommate is supposed to move in soon, she’s told, but she has the place to herself for at least a few days. That’s fine. She’ll just get the place how she likes it and ask her roommate when they get here.

Opening the door to the small apartment, Marinette explores first, though there isn’t all that much to see. It feels a bit like the whole apartment is just a narrow hallway. When she steps inside, there’s two doors to her right, one with a small closet and one with the washer and dryer. The hallway turns to the left, and there’s three more doors on the right before she finally steps into the living room. The first door is the bathroom, and the next two are bedrooms, and the kitchen is just the inner wall of the living room.

It’s tight and will be especially so when her roommate gets here, but it’s enough. _I’ll have to apologize in advance._ She thinks. _The living room is the only place with any space to get work done. I’ll probably be taking up a lot of the floor when I’m sewing. Hopefully most of it can be done at university, but I don’t know yet how they’ll feel about using the school resources for personal projects._

_I can’t imagine it’ll be an issue, but I also imagine I’ll be doing at least some work here, so I should make sure my roommate is warned about that._

Marinette takes the second bedroom after determining it has a larger closet, but she doesn’t unpack yet. She just throws her bags down and calls home.

Her parents answer right away, and Marinette isn’t surprised that Adrien and Alya are both with them. “We miss you already.” Her mother says. “How is everything? What’s New York City like?”

Marinette chuckles. “ _Maman_ , I only just got here. The apartment’s alright, but my roommate’s not here yet. I’m really excited to visit the garment district, though! I’ll have to do that soon.”

“Of course. Don’t slack on your studying, though.”

“I would never!” Marinette fake-gasps. “But seriously, don’t worry. This is going to be great. I’m excited to get started.”

“And I’m excited for you, sweetheart.”

The conversation goes on and on, but eventually they have to hang up. Knowing already what she needs to do first, gets started on cleaning. The place isn’t dirty, but she feels better after having gone through it thoroughly.

After that, it’s all about getting ready for school. Marinette will worry about unpacking and making sure the apartment is exactly how she wants it when her roommate gets here to give their input, but for now, she’s starting university in a week and she has a lot to do in the meantime.

But she’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng, after all. If anyone can handle it, she can.


	2. All I wanted was to find there's something here inside of me they couldn't keep.

It might be a strange thought, considering the circumstances, but Jon thinks he’s grown up to be boring. Obviously, his life is anything but boring – there’s little boring about superheroes and villains and cataclysms and tragedies and… well, there’s a lot that’s decidedly _not_ boring. But Jon himself? Kind of boring.

After all, what is he? He’s just the next generation of his dad. He has practically the same personality, the same values, the same hair and eyes, the same fashion (some of the _exact_ same clothes), the same muscle, the same powers. Following in his dad’s footsteps, he even has the same night job, and the same day job to boot, or he will soon enough.

And none of that is bad. Jon _loves_ his dad. To be like Superman is just about the greatest thing he can think of! Boring, if it’s like this, is _great_.

That said, there’s something Jon is very different from his dad in. That’s that Jon has been fighting crime since he was ten. He knows good people get involved, that’s one of the core lessons his parents taught him, but… even children? The difference between Jon and Superman is that Superman didn’t become Superman until his early twenties. Jon is still just shy of that and he’s been Superboy for almost half his life. The difference is that no matter how their powers set them apart from humans, and no matter how hard it was for his dad to feel that isolation that comes with it (Jon is familiar with the feeling, despite having his dad and aunt around) his dad at least knows how to be normal.

Jon grew up as a hero. He doesn’t know any different. And maybe the grass is always greener, but he wonders, sometimes, what an ordinary life would be like. Jon knows it’s not his parent’s fault. After all, even if they had tried to keep Jon from the superhero life, he would have gone out and been a hero without their permission. He has, quite a few times, anyway, though that’s mostly Damian’s fault. Making him Superboy, even so young as he was, was the only way his parents could let him explore himself and his powers and still watch over him to keep him safe. And he really, really appreciates that. He just wonders if… _not_ being Superboy has ever really been on the table.

It doesn’t occur to him until now, that maybe being Kryptonian, having these powers, being _super_ doesn’t mean he has to be a hero. Maybe he can still be good, still get involved, without rushing to everybody’s rescue, or fighting the next great evil. Maybe he’ll even _like_ that. After all, isn’t that what journalism is about? Getting involved and making a difference without fist-fighting demons? Can’t that be heroism?

What would life be like, to live like any other person on Earth? To be a hero only so far as ordinary folks ever are heroes. To not necessarily _not_ be superpowered, but to live a life irrespective of his powers. A life that’s no different for his powers, except in the way everyone’s differences make their lives unique. A life where Jon can forge his own path and worry only about himself and those in front of him, not everyone his powers might be able to save.

Deep down, Jon longs to find out. He’s just not sure it’s a realistic dream.

* * *

 _Is this teenage rebellion, or did I get all that out of my system being dragged along with Damian’s tween wrath?_ Jon makes a face at the college website, squinting through the dark. It’s bad for his eyes, staring at the laptop without his lights on, but Jon wears glasses anyway and he’s honestly not convinced his eyes _can_ get messed up the same way humans can, on account of the whole telescopic and x-ray vision powers.

 _Huh. Maybe biology?_ Jon clicks idly through the list of colleges, to the sciences. _Uh, actually, gross. As interesting as it is, I would hate that._ He quickly backs up to the page he was on before, sighing as he tabs back and forth between it and another college website.

It’s so tempting to go to school for journalism. He already has background in it, and his parents can help him if he needs it. It might be nice to be known for the name Kent too, rather than for the “S”. And with journalism, he might be able to get into some interesting places. Chicago, or Austin, maybe. Or he can even stick to Metropolis. He’ll definitely be known as the Kent if he does that.

Then again, maybe he can do something different. Maybe he can make his own way. Define himself separately from his family. He loves them, but… being Clark 2.0, while an honor, is a bit dehumanizing. The last thing an alien needs is dehumanizing. It is frustrating being an “S” instead of a person and being a Kent might just be another variation of that. If he chooses something different it doesn’t necessarily stop him from working in journalism, and it gives him a unique perspective. Plus, he won’t always be surrounded by people who know his parents. There’ll be no reason to expect him to be any different than the rest of the students, and that is a tempting idea in itself.

Then again, Jon does like journalism, and picking a major just because it’s not what his parents do is kind of silly. _Or is it smart? I can learn all I want to know about journalism from Mom and Dad, so if I’m going to college, I should pick something I can’t learn here at home, right?_

 _Will they be proud of me if I study journalism? If I don’t?_ Jon groans. _I don’t know. There’s so much to consider._

He’s already got two feet in the door in the journalism world. While he knows he can do to grow as a writer, he doesn’t _need_ the connections and opportunities that college grants for the field. He’s already got those. And even if he does plan to pursue that field as a career, Jon wonders if gaining experience elsewhere will give him better insight and make him a better reporter anyway. Something like… psychology. Or politics. Something that’ll help him understand people in a way that he can use when he writes about them.

Or he can go undecided for now. But then the question of college comes down to location. Where should he apply? Metropolis? Does he _want_ to go to Metropolis? Maybe Gotham? Or even San Francisco or Jump City or something totally unexpected like Paris? If he goes to Illinois or Texas, how will that change how he works as Superboy? Can he… stop being Superboy for a while? Just not deal with that stress on top of college?

Just the idea makes Jon feel guilty. People rely on Superboy. His dad isn’t getting any younger, either, and though Superman is still going strong for now, it’s becoming increasingly clear to Jon that everyone, the Justice League, the people of America and the world, and even Superman himself, is expecting Jon to replace his dad when the inevitable does happen. It’s irresponsible to abandon his duties for college. Superboy is more important than that. Super _man_ is more important than that.

And a small, bitter part of him questions why Superboy doesn’t deserve the same chances that everyone else has. Why _he_ has to sacrifice that time and focus to save _them_. He knows it’s because that’s what the “S” means. It’s about character. That doesn’t stop him from resenting it.

On the bright side, every next time some genius gets their hands on kryptonite is another chance for him to die young and stop worrying about his character flaws. So, that’s comforting.

But since he _is_ Superboy, and still alive, he shouldn’t wander too far. His powers give him a lot of mobility, so he has more opportunity than a lot of heroes his age. He tries to appreciate that. At least he’s not tied to any particular city, since he can just fly in if he’s needed. He just shouldn’t go across the whole country. Or world. _At least it makes deciding easier._

* * *

“Have you decided what you’re doing, yet?”

Jon looks up at his dad and smiles weakly. His eyes ache from looking at his laptop screen for so long, and he’s tired and hungry, too. “Not yet.” Jon says. “Might go undecided for a bit.”

His dad sits down with him to look at the screen, nodding. “That’s not a bad thing. But you still need to figure out what college you want to go to.”

Jon sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

His dad hesitates for a moment, and then nudges him. “Why don’t you tell me where you were thinking of? What makes the decision so hard?”

Frowning, Jon clicks through some of the open tabs in his browser. “I just… I don’t know. Honestly, I’m not sure about any of this.”

“What do you mean?”

His voice is so soft and gentle, and it reminds Jon again how lucky he is to have a dad like him. Someone who really cares. “I don’t know if I can handle college and being Superboy.” Jon mumbles. “It was hard enough in high school, and I… I’m not sure I even…” He sighs. “Nevermind. I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey.” Jon feels his dad grab his shoulder, so he turns to face him. “You don’t have to be full-time. It’ll be just like high school. When you’re busy with school, you’re off-duty. Don’t worry about being a hero. It’s okay to just focus on your education.”

Jon ducks his head. “Yeah, I know that.” He says. Even when the League, or more specifically some of the other heroes, try to get him more often, Jon’s dad always makes sure that he has plenty of time to focus on school, and that he’s not interrupted _in_ school unless there’s some complete Armageddon going on.

That happens a few times. It sucks.

Even still… everyone expects him to pick up more responsibilities now that he’s going to college. He’s not sure he wants that.

“Jon.” His dad says. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing.” Jon mumbles. He clicks through a few more tabs, disquieted more and more by each option.

“Come on, I want to help. What’s wrong?”

Jon sighs. There’s no getting around it. His dad is just too… helpful. That’s what makes him Superman. “Have you ever wondered if you could just be normal? No jumping up to save the day or punching bad guys or anything. Just… being like everyone else?”

Jon agitatedly clicks through a few more tabs and links before he realizes his dad is awfully quiet. When he turns to look at him, and sees the pensive expression on his face, his dad finally says, “All the time.”

 _Oh._ Jon ducks his head. The laptop screen has long since stopped being interesting, but he can’t even pretend to be reading the articles there anymore. The floor is all he can focus on.

“Being a hero isn’t easy.” His dad says quietly. “But, for me, it’s the only way I can be my whole self. Kal-El. And I do a lot of good as Superman.”

Jon huffs a little. “You do a lot of good as Clark Kent, too. And just my dad.”

His dad smiles. “Yeah. I told you before, the ‘S’ isn’t about our powers. It’s about character. That’s where the good comes from. But since we do have powers, it’s our responsibility to use them for the greater good. That’s where Superman, and Superboy, come from.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

His dad blinks almost dumbly. “Don’t want to? Don’t want to what?”

“Be Superboy.” Jon answers. “I really appreciate that I am. It’s helped me a lot, especially with my powers, but… I never got the chance to not be that. I want to… I want to just… do college like normal people.”

His dad is quiet for another long moment. “And you think you’ll be okay not using your powers?”

“I already hide my powers. Being Superboy doesn’t change that, Dad. We’re still lying and keeping secrets. I just… I’m starting to really hate it.”

“Jon, you know we have to hide to keep you safe.”

 _Safe_. Jon knows that. He knows how _safe_ he’s been. How safe he is fighting giant octopus monsters or Kryponian hunters or whatever the hell is causing the next end of the world. It makes something hot and ugly stir in his chest, and his voice rises and works of its own accord. “I’m not talking about the hiding! Why are we expected to save them when we can’t even live our lives without being afraid of them? Why should having these powers mean I have to handle all my own problems and theirs on top of it?” Jon flinches at his own words, but he can’t calm himself down enough to be more eloquent. “It just… It makes me so _mad_ that I have to be a superhero and devote my life to everyone else when I don’t know what I even _want_ to do with my life! I just- I never thought I’d have to _think_ about it because I just- because _everyone_ just _assumed_ I’m _you_!”

Jon growls loudly, mostly at himself for getting riled up, but he’s heated now, and he can’t stop himself from talking. “I don’t want to be a hero anymore! I just want- I don’t even know what I want to do! I want to figure it out! I want to _be able_ to figure it out! Without this dumb ‘S’ looming over my head! I’m… I’m confused, and this is just… it’s too much pressure.”

His voice cracks at the end, which finally breaks his tirade and sends him curling up into himself. “I hate this.” He mutters into his knees.

“Jon…” His dad says gently, wrapping him up in a hug. “We _have_ to help people because we _can_. I know it’s hard. In some ways, it’s unfair. But that’s just what good people do.”

“Maybe I’m not a good person, then.” Jon mutters darkly.

His dad recoils a bit and doesn’t recover before his mom swoops in to sit on his other side and give him a hug of her own. “Hey, sweetie. How long have you felt that way about being a hero?”

Jon just shrugs, not lifting his face from his mom’s shoulder. “Few years now, I guess. I’m tired.”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Chuckling humorlessly, Jon buries himself deeper into his mom. “What’s the point? I _have_ to be a hero. That’s what being good means. Doesn’t matter how sick of it I am. Don’t even know how to not be Superboy, anyway.”

There’s a distinct stiffening to the muscles under him that tells him his mom is mad. Jon curls up a little more in preparation for what’s coming. The deserved retaliation for his weakness. For his selfishness.

“Clark.” Jon’s mom says calmly. “Tell the League to list Superboy as off-duty. Indefinitely.”

Jon shoots up, staring aghast and in awe at his mom. “What?” He and his dad say simultaneously.

His mom just narrows her eyes at his dad. “Indefinitely.” She repeats. There’s no room for argument when she uses that tone. Just the way she speaks says, “If you don’t, I will. And I won’t be as nice about it as you will.”

“The League won’t be happy ab-”

“Clark…” Her tone is dangerous, warning. Jon is too shocked and confused to interrupt. “Remind me when you started being Superman?”

His dad ducks his head, rubbing his neck. “Well, I’d just got my job at the paper, so I’d have been… twenty-one? Twenty-two?”

“Just finished college.” Jon’s mom says. “Starting your career. Jon deserves the chance to figure out what he wants to do without being a hero, just like you did. There’s enough heroes that the world won’t end if Jon takes a few years to figure out what he wants to do.”

“I… You’re right.” Jon’s dad says. “The League won’t be happy about a Kryptonian running around outside of their control, but they should trust Jon by now.” Jon grimaces as his dad ruffles his hair. “You don’t worry about a thing. I’ll handle the League, and you can focus on college. When… or _if_ you decide you want to be Superboy again, you can come back when you’re ready. Okay, son?”

Jon can’t help the tears that streak down his face as he tackles his dad, dragging his mom along too into one big pile of a group hug. “Thank you.” Jon mutters.

* * *

Jon is still undecided on his major. He can’t bring himself to devote himself so much to one area of study when he’s still feeling like he’ll need to abandon it to go save the world at any moment. It just feels pointless to throw himself into something like this.

That said, he does decide on a college. Eventually. Part of him wants to find some no-name town and hide out there. Someplace where nothing ever really happens, where he won’t hear a scream for help and have to do something about it. But… he picks the alternative instead. New York. NYU, specifically. There are so many heroes in New York that even he’d be hard-pressed to make it to a crime scene before some other hero is already there handling it. And in New York, the League can keep an eye on him easier. Make sure he’s not doing anything dangerous with his world-ending superpowers.

Jon rolls his eyes. The League and their paranoia. It’s rubbing off on him. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. It’s eating him alive that he’s sitting back while there are still people who need help. But he just wants to find some illusion of normalcy. Of safety and… direction. Something that’s not dictated by his heritage or his name. He’s not going to cause any trouble. That’d be antithetical to the whole point of this.

Still. Manhattan. It’s not crazy far, not like he’s flying across an ocean or anything, but even so it’s a new start for him. Jon can’t help but feel excited at the idea. He’ll be living on his own for the first time, sharing an apartment with a stranger.

He has fought and fought and fought just to survive to be able to do this. This, moving into his own life, exploring it and learning all he can, this is what he has fought to protect for so many other people. Now, it’s his chance to do it himself. It’s scary, but it’s also exhilarating.

When he packs up his things and piles into the car, it hits him all at once. A new chapter. A new Jon. He isn’t sure who that is just yet, but he’s braved the unknown too many times to be afraid of it. If he’s honest with himself, he’s much more afraid of going back.

New York isn’t all that different from Metropolis. Jon figures most big cities are pretty similar. They all have their own uniqueness about them, of course, but at their core things work largely the same. Jon is still just a kid from the country at his heart, but with his “home away from home” being Metropolis, New York feels almost familiar to him. Different enough to be exciting, and to remind him he’s doing something so remarkable, but familiar in a way that gives him confidence.

Things will be okay here. Jon can do this.

He repeats that to himself as his gut tightens. His parents will only be a short flight away. He can go out and see them anytime he wants, really, but living away from them, in a whole new city no less, is still nerve-wracking.

But of course, for now, bless them, they’re helping him move into his new apartment. His roommate is out when he arrives, but he can see the signs of life that tell him they’re already here. Probably have been for a day or two. One of the rooms has their stuff in it – he assumes they’re a girl based on the glance he catches when he’s exploring, but the moment he sees they’ve already claimed it he retreats from the room and tosses his stuff in the other one.

The furnishing is spartan, but Jon expects this, and he’s dealt with worse on missions. It doesn’t look like his roommate has done much to make the place feel more homely, except clean, he thinks, but there’s no way to tell until he meets them if they’re just a minimal person or if they’re waiting for him.

 _I’ll have to buy groceries next time._ He thinks, checking the fridge and cabinets, realizing his roommate has already stocked up.

But he doesn’t spend much time in the living room yet. He wants to meet his roommate before he starts messing around too much in the common space. Instead, he focuses on putting his bedroom into order.

Besides their room, and the obvious signs of life, there are some other traces of them around the place. The bathroom has a bunch of products tucked neatly off to the side, and the cupboards under the sink have basic supplies. He spots a first-aid kit, too, which concerns him just a little because it’s a _big_ one. Like, the kind of overstocked kit he’s only ever seen in heroes’ homes. But Jon just shakes the concern out of his head, rationalizing that there’s any number of reasons for a better first-aid kit. They probably just like to be prepared. After all, they’ve already got the apartment in order, with the exception of things he imagines his input would be relevant on. They seem like a fairly organized person from that alone.

When he runs out of things to do in the apartment, he heads out with his parents to sightsee a bit, and that’s how he spends the rest of his day. It’s not until late in the evening that he returns to his new home. Alone.

The first thing he notices when he opens the plain door is the scent of fresh cookies. The next is the soft thudding of feet, and then a petite girl slides around the corner with a used rolling pin in her hands and flour dusting her pink apron.

She grins widely. “You must be my roommate! I’m Marinette. It’s nice to meet you!”

“I’m Jon.” Jon says, grinning back. “How long have you been here?”

Marinette turns to lead him down the hallway to the living room. “Oh, I got in on Monday. I’ve been so excited to meet you! Oh! And when I saw your stuff here today, I made cookies! Do you have any allergies?”

“Nope.” Jon follows the flowing black hair bobbing in front of him until they find themselves in the living room and kitchen, snickering softly at how he has to look down at her. _She’s so cute! And she made cookies!_ “That’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I used to make macarons for my class on the first day of school. This is just my way of saying hi, and that I want to be friends.”

Jon swears his heart melts a little. _She’s adorable._ Hero or not, Jon resolves at that moment that he’ll do anything to keep this girl safe. She’s too pure for this world. “Aw, well I want to be friends, too.” Jon says. “And now I feel like I got really lucky, with you as my roommate.”

The girl flushes and giggles but shakes her head as she pushes him towards some cookies set out on a cooling rack. “Help yourself. They’re still warm.” She says

“Don’t mind if I do.” Jon has to admit, the cookies look delectable. And when he bites into one, he could be on Krypton for how the taste transports him. “Oh my god, these are so good.”

Marinette just giggles. She smirks proudly, a little smugly. “Mhmm. My parents are bakers, actually, so I’ve been baking almost my whole life. What do your parents do?”

“They’re journalists. Reporters in Metropolis. Mom also writes books.”

“Wow, my best friend wants to be a reporter! In Metropolis, though? Is that where you’re from?”

“Sort of. I live on a farm in Hamilton County. A ways north of there. I visit a lot, though, so it’s a home away from home of sorts. What about you? You’ve got an accent, uh… French?”

“Mhmm. I’m from Paris. I came here to study fashion at FIT.”

“That’s so cool! You’re a fashion designer?”

“Yeah! That’s my dream. I’m so lucky to have this chance to study here.” Marinette helps herself to a cookie herself as she makes herself comfortable on a chair. Jon follows her to sit down as well. “What about you? You’re about my age, aren’t you? You here for college?”

“I’m nineteen.” Jon says “And yeah. NYU. I’m, uh, still undecided though. Not really sure what I want to study yet.” He’s embarrassed to admit it, though he knows he’s going to be telling a _lot_ more people about his indecision. After all, everyone in college is going to be asking each other their majors.

Marinette, when she talks about fashion, even just her opportunity to go to school here for it, she has this glow about her. She knows exactly what she wants and she’s going for it. Jon can’t help but admire that. It makes him feel a little behind the curve, though. There’s a lot of undeclared majors in college, but he imagines most people their age already have some idea at least.

“I just turned twenty!” Marinette says. “But you’ve got time to figure it out, right? There’s a lot of core classes we’ll have to do anyway.”

“Yeah.” Jon admits. “That’s true. No rush just yet.”

“You’ll find what you want to do, Jon.” Marinette says confidently. “No need to worry yet.”

Jon just laughs quietly. _Am I that transparent?_ He doesn’t think he’s so obvious that Marinette can see how bummed he is about not knowing what he wants to do with his life, but she makes that little effort to comfort him anyway. “You’re right. Thanks.”

Marinette grins, and then smacks herself. “Oh, I told myself I’d warn you ahead of time! Making clothes often takes up a lot of space. Mostly just when I have to cut fabric, but I might have to use a lot of the floor space here every once in a while.” She gestures to the living room. “And I might have to move the furniture to make space sometimes. I’ll try to keep as much of it as I can at the university, but…”

“That’s fine.” Jon says. “I don’t mind at all. If you do need to move the furniture, let me know and I’ll help out.” Jon eyes her and the furniture and while the furniture isn’t hefty by any means, Marinette is a small girl. He may not be using his powers much being off-duty and with a roommate who can’t know about them, but he’s still a big guy and moving around some furniture won’t be more than a small annoyance at best. He hopes she doesn’t push herself too hard trying not to inconvenience him if it does come down to that.

“Thank you.” Marinette beams brilliantly. “I understand it might get annoying, but as I said, I’ll try to keep most of that stuff at school. Hopefully, we won’t have to do that too often. And I hope you don’t mind; I took the bedroom with a little bit bigger closet.”

He laughs. “Not at all. Sounds like you’ll need it.”

Marinette agrees, laughing along with him. “So, when do you start, anyway?”

“Next week. You?”

“Same. I’m really excited! To be honest, I still kind of can’t believe I’m here. In America!” She laughs. “I never thought I’d find myself here, but here I am.”

“I’ve been to Paris,” Jon says, “but I never got the chance to really look around. Is it very different from here?”

Marinette shrugs non-committally. “Well, you don’t have the architecture here. Paris is much more elegant, but I do like New York. It’s just as inspiring, just in a different way. Life in a big city isn’t all that different though. I just have to use English, now. It must be worse for you, you said you came from a farm?”

“Yeah, but I spent a lot of time in Metropolis. It’s not too different, either. Biggest thing for me is the noise. When I had to spend the night in Metropolis? Like, do those people ever sleep? It’s so quiet on the farm. Nothing like the city.”

“It must be so beautiful out there, though.”

“City’s pretty, too. It’s different, but they’re both nice.” When Marinette only hums in agreement instead of commenting further, he asks, “So what classes do you have at FIT? Do you have the same core stuff as I do, or is it different since your college is specialized?”

Marinette furrows her brow. “I’m not sure, actually. I still have to get credits in all the normal stuff. Science, math, foreign language – I really need to talk to an advisor about French there, actually – but I’m not sure if they offer the same classes as NYU. I’m taking a communications class but that’s for non-native English speakers, and geometry for my maths. And Science of Jewelry counts for my natural science credit, but I did see that they offered more typical science classes.”

Jon hums. _She really is focused on design. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised._ “I’m taking more general classes. Kind of hoping something will catch my interest and help me figure out what I want to do. I guess it makes sense that a specialized college would teach even the regular classes through that kind of lens.”

“Yeah.” Marinette yawns widely. “I’m glad, though. Not sure I’d enjoy sitting through core classes if they weren’t tailored to art or design.”

“Ha, yeah. You getting tired?”

“A little. I’m still on Paris time, I guess. Do you mind if I go get ready for bed?”

Jon hold up his hands. “Don’t need my permission. This is your apartment too. Go ahead. I’m just going to…” He reaches over to the plate of cookies Marinette leaves on the coffee table. “Take another one of these and get ready for bed myself.”

Marinette giggles. “Alright. Good night, Jon.”

“Nighty night, Marinette.”


	3. He's a hero, a lover, a prince. She's not there.

Marinette has to admit that she is a little nervous to be sharing an apartment with a boy. She’s been sharing with Adrien, of course, but Adrien is her boyfriend. Jon is a stranger. But, meeting him, Marinette’s fears calm a lot.

Jon is big enough to hurt her if he wants, and would take all of Marinette’s skill and training to fight just for his size and strength advantage, but he’s so gentle and earnest that Marinette is convinced startlingly fast that she needn’t be on such guard around him.

She notices, as they ease into a routine on their first week living together, how he’s always careful to give her space, as if he’s afraid of crowding her with his height over her. He never intrudes in her room, either. In fact, the only time he even steps foot inside is when Marinette grabs his arm and drags him in to get his help in hanging up some fairy lights she needs higher on the wall than she can safely reach. (She gets _most_ of it done herself. Over her desk and bed, she just stands on those to give her the height, but one wall doesn’t have any convenient furniture under it.)

Jon is a remarkably great roommate, actually, whom Marinette counts herself lucky to be stuck with. He’s friendly and invites her out with him when he’s going to do fun things and he’s always willing to talk and listen if she wants to, and he cleans up after himself and stays out of her business for the most part, which Marinette appreciates. They go for coffee a few times in the mornings leading up to their semesters starting, taking advantage of the time to get to know each other before they’re swamped with work, but most of their days are spent either exploring their respective colleges, exploring the city (which they do together once or twice), or at their desks preparing for the semester ahead. By the time classes do start, Marinette considers him a friend.

Adrien isn’t too happy about her rooming with a guy, which Marinette understands, but she tries to assuage his concerns. “It’s fine, Adrien. Jon is very considerate. You don’t have to worry about him. Besides, I always have Tikki.”

Adrien pouts at the screen. “I know you can handle yourself, my lady. I just don’t like the idea of some strange guy living with you.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “You don’t know him.”

“Neither do you. You’ve only known each other for a week!”

“And he hasn’t given me any reason not to trust him.” Marinette says. “Of course, I’m cautious, but I won’t assume the worst about him when he hasn’t shown any sign of deserving it. Just relax.”

Adrien sighs. “I’m trying. I just… I worry about you. Are you sure you’re doing okay?”

“I’m doing great. There’s nothing to worry about.”

His eyes flicker downwards. “If you say so. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, _chaton_.”

Adrien is quiet for a while, and ultimately breaks the silence by asking, “So, how’re your classes?”

Marinette smiles. “Not quite what I was expecting.” She admits. “But interesting!” As she talks about her classes, Adrien listens attentively, looking just below the camera (at her image) with the same look she always sees on him. That love for her that makes her heart flutter.

It’s not quite the same when she knows he’s an ocean away. It doesn’t make her heart flutter. It makes it _hurt_.

But she doesn’t regret her decision. She can’t. University is more than she can imagine, and she’s only just starting! Already she’s learning things she’s never even thought about, and it’s still hard to fight the itch to go out and patrol the streets, but she takes solace in the comforting notion that it’s not her responsibility anymore. She’s not a hero. Besides, while classes are manageable now, she’ll be thankful for the extra time when things really get into full swing. Already she’s planning out her time carefully and doing everything she can to stay on top of her work.

She _won’t_ go back to clumsy, overworked, stressed-out, hot mess Marinette. This is a new chapter in her life, and she’ll take full advantage of the ability to get a head start on organizing it.

The first day of classes, as soon as she gets to the apartment, she copies down all the dates in her syllabi to her schedule, on a calendar directly over her desk where she can’t miss it if she tries. And every day after class, she writes all her smaller assignments and readings on a whiteboard in the same place over her desk, which she can plan her time around to tackle one at a time without overworking herself.

(When she mentions this strategy to Jon, he slaps a hand to his face and exclaims, “Why didn’t I think of that?” Marinette laughs at him and is flattered when he mentions a few days later that he got a similar set-up for himself, thanking her for “saving his life.”)

* * *

“Shoes, Jon!”

Jon freezes in the doorway, groaning as he looks down at his feet. “Sorry, Marinette.”

“We have a shoe closet for a reason, you know.”

“That’s a _broom_ closet!” He protests, already on his way back to change his shoes.

“Our shoes are in there!” Marinette calls down the hall to him. “So, it’s a shoe closet!”

“The broom is in there, too!”

“I didn’t buy you indoor shoes for you to sass me, mister! You’re just tracking dirt all over the place, and _you’re_ going to have to clean it up!”

“Then I’ll clean it! You know I don’t mind cleaning duty!”

As Jon reemerges into the living room, Marinette says, “And that’s fine, so long as I don’t have to use the floor before you get to it and get my fabrics all filthy. Again.”

“I said I was sorry.” Jon whines. He makes a cute pouty face for a moment before his attention turns to what she’s doing. “What’s for dinner?”

“Spaghetti.” Marinette says. “Can you take over? I really want to go over my essay one more time.”

Jon adjusts his glasses and carefully examines the pots on the stove. “Which you can do in the… ten minutes it’ll take to finish this?”

“Every minute counts! I’m also working on a new design, so I want as much time as possible tonight to finish it up. Plus, I have to call Adrien before it gets too late. It’s already getting late in Paris.”

Jon chuckles. “Sure, sure. Go do your thing. I’ll finish up dinner.”

“Thanks! You’re the best.” Marinette hands off her spoon to him and dances around him to get to her room. “Call me when it’s ready!”

“I will. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

Marinette sticks her tongue out at him when he shakes his head at her, and then she hurries off to her room. Her essay isn’t due for another week, which is why she takes the time to start dinner in the first place, but she has a presentation to prepare that’s _also_ due next week, so she wants to get this essay done tonight so that she only has to worry about the one thing.

And while Marinette may be fluent in English – her parents taught her English as well as French growing up, a useful thing to know while in a store in a place with so many tourists – She’s still much less confident in it than in her French. She has to go over her essays very carefully for grammar, and then she takes full advantage of the writing center and the tutors there who will go over it with her. She’s taking this essay in tomorrow, and then will use the weekend to perfect it with her tutor’s recommendations as well as get her presentation into a better place.

It’s a lot, but she’s on top of it for now and she’s going to use everything at her disposal, including Jon so long as it doesn’t hinder him, to _stay_ on top of it. Every minute counts, and this essay needs to be ready to turn into the writing center tonight.

She’s, predictably, still on the phone with Adrien (and multitasking, reviewing her essay at the same time) when Jon knocks on her door and calls her to dinner, and then she runs out to grab a plate and asks, “Do you mind?” as she tentatively steps back towards her room. She can talk with Adrien and eat and then do all her work right after dinner.

Jon chuckles and shakes his head. “Go talk to your boyfriend.”

* * *

Marinette is frustrated. Who in their right mind decides that three classes are allowed to have their tests on the same day? Why is Marinette taking three classes in one day in the first place? _I should have done two and two like a sensible person._ She grumbles to herself. Of course, her lab _also_ has a test, so her other day _still_ has two tests at once. Which is, quite frankly, _utterly ridiculous_.

It’s not like she isn’t prepared for them. She’s known these tests are coming since the start of the semester and has been preparing accordingly. She’s as ready as she can be, and she worries cramming now won’t do anything for her at all. Even still, it’s three tests to worry about tomorrow. So, she’ll review her notes one more time before bed, but before that, she’s going to stress-sew.

Stress-relief will probably help a lot more than a few hours extra studying at this point.

_Vrrrr. Vrrrr. Thunk._

The sewing machine is familiar and calming and it helps her get her thoughts in order.

_Vrrrr. Vrrrr. Thunk._

Repetitive and mindless. She can do this in her sleep. And she knows all the material, she can take the test in her sleep! Right? Right. Definitely.

_Bum-bum-bum._

Marinette raises her head to the door of her room. She carefully stops the machine and goes to answer it.

And there is Jon, glasses askew and hair a mess, rubbing the bags under his eyes. He peers over her shoulder at the machine not far from them. “Hey.” He says. “Is that, uh, urgent?”

Marinette glances back to her project. “No. It’s just a thing I’m working on for myself. Why? Is the machine too loud?”

He slowly nods. “Sorry. Could you put it off until tomorrow or something? I’m- you know. Cramming.”

“Of course. No problem. Sorry for bothering you.”

He yawns. “No worries. Thanks. I should get back to studying.”

Marinette watches as he zombie-walks back to his room, shutting the door behind him. Frowning, Marinette wonders how she can help him. Sewing calms her, but her machine is _bothering_ him, so she has to find something else. She can just leave him alone. Study herself or find a book to read so she’s in silence and not making any noise that can disturb him. That’s probably what he wants her to do, but…

Marinette puts her project away, takes out her own notes, and then tip-toes out of her room. Mid-terms are tough, no doubt about it, but if there’s one thing she knows from being Ladybug it’s that when the going gets tough, keeping her cool is what will lead her to victory.

So, she makes tea. It’s not much, but it’s what she can do for him, and for herself, right now. She pours him a cup and carefully knocks on his door. “Jon?”

“Come in.” She hears, weakly.

She enters, frowns at how the lights are off even as he stares at his laptop screen, and places the cup of tea on his desk next to him. “You’ve been studying all semester.” She says. “You’ve got this.”

Jon slowly reaches out, takes a sip of the tea, and sighs. “Thanks, Marinette.”

“Also, don’t study with your lights off. It’s bad for your eyes, and it’ll only make you tired and you won’t retain as much.”

He chuckles. “Hit the lights for me?”

“Yeah.” She pats his shoulder once before turning away. “Good luck, Jon.”

“You too.”

As she exits the room, she flicks his light switch, flooding the room with light. That alone perks Jon up even more. Marinette rolls her eyes as she closes the door behind her.

As for herself, she grabs her own cup of tea and settles down with her own notes. Maybe she’ll get an early night, if this doesn’t take too long. It’ll be good for her, anyway.

* * *

Marinette expects the party she walks into when she returns to Paris. With her family and friends, it’d be silly to expect anything else. But the fanfare dies quickly enough. After they drag her around for a while and waste the whole day away spending time with each other.

Adrien is a strange mix of ecstatic and subdued. Marinette suspects the latter is because he can tell what she’s thinking, even as she figures it out herself, but he’s still overjoyed to see her and he sweeps her up into his arms like he hasn’t been able to for months. (Because he hasn’t.)

And when the day drifts into its close, it’s odd, living in her old bedroom again. It isn’t just her time at University since she’s lived in the bakery, after all, but also her time living with Adrien, so it’s strange to be in this room again.

Adrien is still with her for now, standing in her old bedroom feeling two years too old for it, because he wants to be with her as much as he can and she wants to spend the break with her parents.

“I always loved this room.” Adrien says suddenly. “It’s so _you_. And look!” He rushes over to her bed, scaling the stairs up to it to poke at the latch above it. “Your balcony! Remember all the nights we’d spend up there?”

Marinette smiles. She remembers. All the nights Chat Noir would drop by her balcony. How they’d talk and talk late into the night about everything and nothing, before and after the reveal of their identities. _How many hours have we spent up there?_ She follows him up, taking his hand when he offers it to pull her through the skylight onto the balcony proper.

It’s just like she remembers it. A little barren, maybe, with not quite so many plants out here to keep them company, but her old lounge chair and sunshade are still out here. It makes her feel nostalgic.

“I should go patrol.” Adrien says looking out over the city. “Do you… want to join me, my lady? For old time’s sake? Paris misses you.” He leaves the “I miss you” out for her sake, but Marinette hears it.

She shakes her head. “I’m not a hero anymore, Adrien.”

Adrien swallows thickly. “Right. I’ll… I guess I’ll see you soon, then.”

Marinette searches in Adrien’s eyes for answers to a question she doesn’t want to ask. “See you soon.”

He looks away. “Plagg. Transform me.” He turns, readying himself to leap to another roof, but looks back.

It’s strange, when he looks back. It makes Marinette feel out of place. Like she’s not where she’s supposed to be and he’s surprised to see her there instead of at his side. It makes something inside of Marinette twist painfully, but she ignores it for now. It’s probably nothing. She’s just not used to staying behind yet.

* * *

Marinette takes for granted the normal things in her life. She shouldn’t, considering how abnormal her life is, but she does. Things like cooking dinner for two knowing someone else will be home by the time it’s done, or petty disagreements over inside shoes that never heat up to the point of actual argument, or work catching up with her despite her efforts to stay on top of it and working late into the night to get everything done.

Adrien never stops asking her if she wants to go on patrol, and every time he leaves without her, she feels more and more alone. During the day, Alya badgers her about Ladybug, too. And she doesn’t _mind_ it. She understands where they’re coming from. She just… misses when superheroes and crime fighting wasn’t a thing she had to worry about. Even if it only lasted for a couple months.

“What’s troubling you, Master?”

Marinette closes her eyes and sighs at the floor at Wayzz’s question. “Nothing.” She says. “It’s almost Christmas! Are you all excited?”

The kwami all chirp happily and voice their excitement and Marinette uses that to derail their concern. The way Wayzz and Tikki look at each other, though… Marinette knows this isn’t the end of it.

Christmas comes and goes. It’s a lovely affair. Marinette goes to Alya’s holiday party, and then spends Christmas day with her family, Adrien included. (He’s been part of the family since his dad was arrested for being Hawk Moth.) It’s a day of warmth and cheer, and Marinette kisses Adrien under the mistletoe, and then Chat Noir leaves to sing carols on rooftops, and Marinette wonders… she wonders where normal went.

She feels selfish. Mean and cruel and selfish, because she doesn’t hate this. It’s _fine_. She’s _okay_ with Adrien leaving every night to be a hero, despite how lonely it makes her feel. She’s _content_ with her responsibility of taking care of the kwami. But she isn’t happy. It hurts, that she’s not happy. But on some level, it feels like she’s still expected to be Ladybug. Every time Adrien asks her if she wants to suit up, every time Wayzz calls her “Master,” every time Alya shows her the pictures she takes of Adrien late at night, it’s like they’re quietly egging her on, nagging her, asking why she isn’t doing what she’s _supposed_ to. Asking where she went.

It’s uncomfortable, and even though she has a lot of fun being back home with her family and friends, it pervades everything in Paris. It’s as if the city itself is crying out to her to come back to them.

In some cases, it literally is doing that.

Alya has more tact than to post such an article, but other news sites, ones who don’t know who Ladybug is or her reason for leaving, still ask what happened to Paris’ heroine. Adrien still dodges questions about it, still never giving a firm answer on whether she’ll come back or not. Marinette thinks he doesn’t want to say that she won’t, because he’s still hoping that she will.

_“How could she just abandon us like this?”_ People ask. _“She’s supposed to be our hero.”_ They say.

It’s too late for that. Marinette can’t turn back now. Not after she got her one sweet taste of normal. Besides, she still has the rest of her University life ahead of her. It’s only been one semester. She can’t come back now even if she wants to.

But how can she turn her back on this?

It’s a few days before she leaves that she makes her decision. “Marinette.” Tikki says softly. “You’ve been quiet all break. What’s going on?”

Marinette sighs. She doesn’t want to say. She wants to deny that anything at all is wrong. But she’d be lying. She made a promise to Adrien to be happy, and if she lies now… Marinette resigns herself to the inevitable. It’s better to do it now than later. Rip off the band-aid, so to speak. “I went to America because I wanted to start over, Tikki. To start… normal. Because being here, where being Ladybug is so important – not just to me but to _everyone_. Adrien, Alya, all of you kwami, it… I feel trapped here. And Paris is… they’re _mad_ at me, Tikki. For leaving. They’re _mad_ at me because I did something that made me happy! I just- I’m mad at them! And I…” She sighs again, shaking her head. It’s not worth getting angry over. “I don’t want to stay here, but… I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“Marinette, you’re the guardian of the Miracle Box. You have t-”

“I know! I know I have responsibilities! I don’t _want_ them! I’m not trying to slack off or shirk my work, I just… university isn’t easy, Tikki.”

“I know.” Tikki laughs lightly. “I saw.”

“It’s not easy, but it’s _normal_. It makes me feel like I’m doing something worthwhile for _me_. It’s a lot of work, but it makes me better. It makes me happy. Being Ladybug, being a hero, it’s a lot of work, too, but it makes me feel… empty. Am… Am I a bad person for not wanting to do that?”

“Of course, you’re not a bad person, Marinette! You’re the best person I know!”

“…Even if I’m not Ladybug?”

“You don’t need powers to be good, Marinette.” Tikki pauses for a long time, looking away and, perhaps, a bit ashamed. “I’m sorry if we put too much on you. I’m proud of you for doing what makes you happy. You know all I want is for you to be happy. If that means you have to be normal, then that’s okay.”

Marinette sniffs and reaches out to hug Tikki. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

She tries and tries to think of how she’ll tell Adrien, but all she does is make herself cry. And she keeps crying until Adrien finally gets back from patrol.

“Marinette!” He’s startled, confused, scared, because his girlfriend is crying, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong. He reaches out to comfort her, but Marinette weakly pushes him away.

She can’t summon words for a long while. All she can do is stare pitifully at his concern, that love and worry that shows her so clearly how he feels about her. And ironically, despite how much he loves her, and how much she loves him, that’s exactly why she needs to do this. Because they have to be honest with each other, and Marinette needs to honor the promise she made to honor that love. She can’t draw this out any longer than she already has, even if she desperately doesn’t want to let go. “I’m sorry, Adrien.” She finally says. “I’m trying, I really am. But I can’t… I can’t do this. I… I’m _just_ starting to understand what normal is, and I can’t… every time you leave, I feel this obligation and hate and hurt and I… I can’t.”

Adrien sits back on the bed, struck more painfully than he ever has been before in costume. “…Are you breaking up with me?”

Marinette nods. “I’m sorry.” She says. “You’re a _hero_. You’re a wonderful person, and I love you so much, but I just… I can’t do this. I can’t be happy this way, so…”

Marinette can hear a long, shaky sigh. “I understand, my lady. We both kind of knew this was coming, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. I guess we did. You’re a hero. I’m not. We worked great when we were fighting together, but now that there’s no bad guy…”

“You’ve been quiet.” Adrien says. “And I’ve been spending more time out, away from you. And you going to America makes it even harder.”

“That time of our lives is over.” Marinette summarizes. “Everything that brought us together in the first place is over.”

“Yeah.” Adrien frowns. “I guess we… outgrew each other.”

“…Each other?”

Adrien flinches. “I love you so much, Marinette. You know that. But… I know what you mean. To me, we were Ladybug and Chat Noir. Even as Marinette and Adrien, we were the hero duo. If we’re not heroes anymore, or worse, if only one of us is, then what are we? You’re always going to be my hero, and I’ll always love you, but… you’re right. It’s not the same.”

Marinette screws her eyes shut, trying in vain not to cry. “I think I saw it the same way. You’re a hero. You’ll always be Chat Noir. And while I still liked being Ladybug, we made sense. Now…”

“Now we don’t.” Adrien says, voice fragile and quivering. “Even if it hurts.”

“…Yeah.”

“Do you think we can still be friends?”

“I think it’ll hurt.” Marinette says. “But I think we can if we try.”

“It’s worth it.” Adrien says. “However much it hurts, it’ll be worth it.”

Marinette giggles softly. “Agreed. So… friends?”

Adrien smiles back at her, weak and struggling but a smile, sincere, nonetheless. “Friends. Forever.”

“Friends forever.” Marinette echoes.

* * *

Marinette throws her bags into her room and collapses on her bed. It’s still unbelievable to her that she’s single now. She’s been with Adrien since _collège_. They dated for six years! The last two years of _collège_ , all three years of _lycée_ , and another year on top of that, plus Marinette’s whole first semester of university. It’s another thing that she’s not sure how to live without.

But she’s adapting to not reaching for Tikki whenever she hears trouble. She’s adapting to not checking on the kwami every night. She’s adapting. She’ll adapt to life without Adrien as a boyfriend, too. At least he’s not completely gone from her life. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

And now that she’s alone… she has nothing left to stop her from crying.

“Marinette? You back?” The voice is cautious, ready for danger, calling out for confirmation that it’s okay to let down his guard. She stifles her sobs, but still doesn’t hear Jon’s shoes on the floorboards before there’s a knock on her door. “Are you… crying?”

“I’m okay!” She calls, sniffling.

There’s a silent moment between them. “You left the door unlocked.” Jon says gently. “I just wanted to make sure it was you.”

“Y-yeah. It’s me. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jon says. “…What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” Marinette says. “Just… Adrien.”

“Adrien?” Jon’s voice takes on a dark quality that she hasn’t heard from him before. “Did he do something?”

“No! No, he didn’t do anything wrong.” Marinette says quickly. Hearing that threatening tone in Jon’s voice frightens her more than she thinks it should, considering it’s for her sake. She’s never seen him angry before, not after a whole semester living together. Subdued, quite a bit, sad, sometimes, like he has a lot on his shoulders, but never angry. She really doesn’t like hearing him that way. “We broke up.” She says, finally. Jon is a friend, and he’s going to be putting up with her missing Adrien one way or another, so she figures it’s just fair to at least tell him what she’s crying over.

There’s a soft, “Oh,” from the other side of the door, and then Jon says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Thanks, but… no. I don’t.”

“Okay.”

And that’s it. He doesn’t say anything else, so Marinette sighs and sits for a while longer in the dark. A few minutes later, there’s another knock on her door. “Marinette? Come out into the living room.”

Marinette frowns through the dark at the door. “Why?”

“Please? Just come out.”

Marinette debates with herself for a moment, glances over to her nightstand where Tikki’s earrings rest in their box, and slowly rises from her bed.

She opens the door, peeking out to see Jon there with a gentle smile on his face, big, concerned, blue eyes magnified by his square glasses, with one hand held out to her. She frowns at him but takes his hand and lets him guide her to the living room.

And what she sees has her crying all over again. He’s pulled out an old quilt she didn’t know he has, the kind of warm, grandma-crafted thing that just screams safety, homeliness, and comfort. It’s draped over the sofa, and there are two pints of ice cream on the coffee table, glowing softly in the light of the television playing the intro of a Disney movie in English, one spoon placed carefully on the lid of each pint.

_Did he buy ice cream before I got back?_ Neither of them eat that much ice cream, so when they do they usually go out specifically for it. They rarely just have it in their freezer. She can’t help but wonder where he got them, but… she’s not going to think about it too hard. It’s just her ladybug luck. How helpful it is. Or maybe Jon has some sixth sense for this. He has always been sensitive to her feelings.

She just can’t believe him right now. He keeps smiling at her, carefully guiding her to the sofa, and sits her down and throws the quilt over her and hands her one of the pints of ice cream before grabbing the other and slipping under the quilt on the other side of the sofa. He doesn’t say anything, he just opens his ice cream and starts digging in, watching the movie like this is just a regularly scheduled movie night. (Maybe, Marinette thinks, they should start having movie nights.)

Marinette opens her pint feeling guilty, because this is so… normal. It’s so sweet and thoughtful of Jon, and it makes her so happy, and it reminds her why she broke up with Adrien and that reminds her how much it hurts.

This is her normal. Life in this little apartment barely big enough for the both of them. Jon from Hamilton County putting his shoes up on the coffee table despite Marinette having spent a semester trying to train him to leave his shoes by the door. Ice cream and Disney movies to get over a breakup. It’s so pedestrian, so normal, so much exactly what Marinette wants that it hurts.

Because she does love Adrien. He’s like the sweet frozen cream on her tongue. He’s a hero, and he makes her feel good when she feels bad, but it’s just not enough. Because he’s a hero, and she’s a world away in America, searching for her own life and future.

Because here under Jon’s old quilt, eating ice cream and watching Disney movies while he’s just on the other side of the sofa doing the exact same thing like this isn’t because she’s feeling terrible but just because it’s a normal thing to do, she feels normal. And safe. And it feels like a betrayal to her home, to her family and friends, and to Adrien. That they aren’t good enough. That she can’t be satisfied with them.

Marinette is confused. She’s feeling too many things and it’s hard to sort through it all, but she supposes that’s why normal people drown their worries away in ice cream and silly movies. Because those are so much simpler and bring such a simple pleasure that they’re easy to focus on.

She looks over to Jon, and he’s attentive of her, glancing her way now and then, checking in on her, but he doesn’t bother her. He lets her sit in silence as she pleases. She did say she doesn’t want to talk about it, so she’s thankful for it. Even so, she has to say something. The only thing she can say to him for doing this for her without question. For being so kind and patient and normal. “Thank you, Jon.”

Jon beams at her. “Don’t mention it.”


	4. You took for granted all the times I never let you down.

“Jon? Can I bother you for a second?”

Jon looks up from his assignment to Marinette. Honestly, it’s a bit of a relief to take a break from it. “Sure.” He says. “What do you need?”

“I’m planning to call Alya, soon. You know who she is, right?”

“Your best friend, right? Through a lot of grade school, I think you said. Is she the one that wants to be a reporter?”

“Yeah. She’s been bugging me to meet you, recently, so I was just wondering if you’d pop in to say hi for a bit.”

Jon smiles. “I get to meet your Paris friends? Cool. I’m down. You calling her now?”

“If you’re not busy.”

He shrugs. “I’ve got some homework, but I need to take a break anyway. I’m good.”

“Awesome!” Marinette chirps, taking out her phone. “Uh, fair warning, though, your parents are sort of her journalism idols, so she might be a little weird.”

Jon laughs. It’s not everyday someone outside Metropolis knows his parents well enough to bother connecting him to them, but the ones that do are all journalists, so Alya knowing makes sense. “And she hasn’t wanted to meet me before now?”

Marinette ducks her head nervously. “I… may have not told her your last name.”

“Pfft. Really, Marinette? Is she pissed with you for keeping that secret from her?”

“Oh, absolutely. In my defense, I didn’t know until almost the end of the semester! You told me your parents are journalists, but I don’t know names like Alya does. And she _does_ talk about Lois Lane a lot, but I didn’t know your mom’s name. I just assumed it’d be Kent. I would have told her sooner if I realized.”

Jon shrugs. “That’s fair. Journalists aren’t really big names unless they’re, like, T.V. anchors. Can’t blame you for not knowing.”

Marinette snorts. “Tell that to Alya. Anyway, I’ll call her. Get ready, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She hits the call button, and nearly immediately another girl’s voice is coming from the speakers. “Marinette! Is he there?!”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Yes, Alya, he’s here.” She pushes Jon towards the couch and sits down next to him where they can sit comfortably close enough together for the camera to pick up the both of them. “See? Meet Jon, my roommate.”

“You’re Jonathan Kent!!!” Alya shrieks. She lets out a long string of something in French before taking a deep breath. “Marinette, I cannot _believe_ you! You’ve been living with _Jonathan Kent_ for _months_ and you didn’t tell me?!”

“I didn’t know his parents were the people you’re always going on about! I told you as soon as I did!”

“Mari.” Alya draws out the last vowel in a long whine. “Lois Lane is my _hero_! How did you forget?!”

“Uh, because her name is _Lane_? I’ve never met Jon’s parents. I didn’t know his mom’s name. I just knew _his_ is Kent.”

“And how many times have I talked about Clark Kent?!”

Marinette covers her face. “That I just forgot. To be fair, what are the odds that my roommate’s parents are your heroes? It just never occurred to me.”

Alya laughs boisterously. “Good point, girl. I guess I can’t be _too_ mad at you, since you _are_ finally introducing me.”

“Aha. Speaking of.” Jon says. “Nice to meet you. Marinette’s told me a lot about you.”

“Hi! Oh my god. Have you seen my blog?” Alya flinches. “Wait,” she says to herself. “Can I just ask if he’s read my blog?” She shakes her head. “ _Will_ you read my blog? If I can get feedback from _the_ Jonathan Kent, I’ll be that much closer to being the best reporter I can be.”

“Alya!” Marinette chastises. “Jon is very busy with University. He doesn’t have time to review your blog for you.”

“It doesn’t have to be right away!” Alya protests. “He can do it when he gets to it!”

Jon clears his throat. “I, uh, also don’t speak French, so…” Alya curses. Jon thinks. It’s in French, but it sounds like a curse. He laughs. “I’m flattered, but I’m not sure I can help you much. I’m not a journalist yet myself, anyway.”

“But you are studying it, aren’t you?” Alya asks.

Jon rubs his neck. “Well… no. I’m still undeclared. To be honest, I’m not really sure what I want to do, yet.” He sighs. “And am quickly running out of time to figure it out.”

He feels Marinette’s comforting touch on his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.” She says.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shakes his head, looking back to Alya. “Anyway, you have a blog? It’s about the superheroes there, right? Ladybug and Black Cat?”

“Chat Noir.” Marinette corrects him. “Ladybug’s name is in English, Chat Noir’s sounds so weird translated.”

Jon laughs. “What’s weird about Black Cat? I’m pretty sure there’s like, four different cat burglars going by variations of that exact name. At least.”

“Exactly. French, _Chat Noir_ , is a hero. Black Cat is a villain name.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. Chat Noir. I haven’t heard much on them lately. Not since the big news when they beat their bad guy.”

“They’re still around.” Alya says. “They’re doing more conventional heroism now. Or, at least, Chat Noir is. Ladybug hasn’t been seen for some time.”

Jon frowns. That’s news to him, but then since he’s off-duty he’s fallen out of touch with the most recent hero news. His dad has been respectfully keeping that stuff out of their talks, thankfully. It’s none of his business, anyway. “Huh. Hope she’s okay.”

“We think she is.” Alya says. “Chat won’t give us much, but apparently it was her decision.”

_That’s relatable._ “Ah. Cool. Good for her.”

Both Marinette and Alya give him strange looks. He shifts awkwardly under their stares. “I hear Superboy is off-duty, though.” Alya says. “Your parents are the number one source for super news. Would you happen to know what happened to him?”

Jon shrugs. “Can’t say. Mom and Dad usually don’t share details of articles with me, so I don’t know any more than they’ve made public.”

“You’re not worried about one of your superheroes just vanishing all of a sudden? The Justice League says he’s just taking leave, but don’t you think it’s a bit odd?” Alya asks. “It’s been months since anyone’s seen him.”

_Good._ Jon thinks. He laughs, but the sound rings bitter to him. “Why should I be worried? He’s Superboy. I’m sure he’s fine. The same could be said for your Ladybug, and you don’t seem worried.”

“Oh, I’m worried.” Alya says pointedly. Jon isn’t quite sure what the emphasis is for, but… talk about superheroes is normal, superhero _business_ is none of his. Whatever Alya’s hinting at isn’t his concern. Ladybug is probably fine, if Chat Noir says so. “But I know the situation with Ladybug better than I do Superboy.”

“Funny, I’m the other way around. I guess there’s nothing to worry about, after all.”

Alya hums. “Maybe. I hope not.”

Marinette shifts the conversation to a lighter topic, to Jon’s relief, but something inside him stays unsettled. He doesn’t like worrying everyone, but he’s not in charge of the PR. The League is surely just trying to maintain some control over the situation, implying that he’s on some temporary break and not gone indefinitely, or maybe they just… don’t believe that he’s serious about this.

He can… he can buy that. The son of the boy scout in blue giving up heroics? Laughable. A Kryptonian living on Earth like he’s just a guy and not some god among men? Why would he lower himself that way? _Because I_ am _just a guy._ Jon thinks bitterly.

The League does a lot of good in the world, and Jon respects them for that, but they just don’t understand having power and not wanting to use it. To _refrain_ from using it makes sense to them. To _hold back_ from using all his power is exactly what they want him to do. But they just can’t even imagine not _wanting_ to use power that they have.

To be fair, there was a time that Jon thought the same way. His powers are a part of him, so why shouldn’t he use them? Now, when he finally has some semblance of peace, when he’s living his own life with ordinary people in an ordinary way… going back terrifies him. He’d rather lose his powers entirely than go back to using them to fight all the time.

He still feels guilty that his powers can be used to fight for _good._ He _can_ , so he _has_ to. That’s what his dad says. But… he doesn’t want to fight again. It doesn’t matter if he’s fighting for good if he’s still _fighting_. He’s tired, and he wants to live this ordinary life he’s found.

* * *

Super-hearing sucks. Jon decides this at God-knows-O’clock in the morning when he wakes up to the distinct and unfortunately familiar sound of glass being cut. By one of Damian’s Goddamned toys.

_Damian, you motherf-_

His thoughts are interrupted when he tunes in to the sound more and hears ragged, uneven breathing and the pitter-patter of liquid hitting hardwood.

_Hell._

Jon throws himself out of bed and floats over the ground to make no noise – the last thing he wants to do is wake up Marinette – to go see what the damage is.

He enters the living room and there, naturally, is Damian. In his hero costume. Bleeding on Jon’s furniture. And there’s a hole in the window. _There go our deposits._ _Sorry, Marinette._ “I hate you so much.” Jon hisses.

“I’ll fix the window.” Damian snaps. “Just help me with this.” He’s holding his thigh tightly, trying to keep pressure on two different areas.

“Did you get… shot _and_ stabbed? In the same leg?”

“I do not need your judgement, Kent. I need your supplies.”

Jon sighs and flies over to the bathroom to retrieve the first-aid kit. Luckily, Damian is more than capable of stitching himself back together, because right now Jon is doing his absolute darndest to not crush his friend instead of simply keeping pressure on him. As Damian focuses on the blade wound, Jon keeps pressure on the bullet wound, gritting his teeth all the while.

And while Damian focuses on his bullet wound, Jon gets the lovely job of cleaning up all the blood before Marinette sees it. _Goddamnit, Damian._

Damian huffs. “There. Now suit up, I’ll need your assistance to finish this mission with my leg the way it is.”

Jon wrings out the towel he’s _absolutely_ going to have to throw away now into the sink. “No.” He says. “I’m retired. Find someone else.”

Damian scoffs. “You’re clearly not busy. With you there it won’t take long, we simply need to-”

“I said no, Damian!” Jon throws the towel at him. At least Damian has the decency to start cleaning up the rest of his mess himself now that he’s not busy staying alive. “I’m not Superboy anymore. There are plenty of heroes who can help you. Call one of them.”

“Jon. Seriously.” He deadpans. “Stop trying to make this difficult. It will be simple. You’ll be back before sunrise; it won’t be any bother at all. Now come on.”

“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand? I’m. Not. A. Hero. Anymore. It’s bad enough you’re breaking into my home. I’m not getting dragged onto another stupid mission with you because you can’t understand what off-duty means.”

“What is wrong with you? I came here because I was bleeding out!”

“And now you’re patched up.” Jon bites. “So, bye!”

“You’ve taken a long enough break. While you act like a child, people’s lives could be in danger.” Damian growls. “Stop whining and suit up. I need your help.”

Jon’s gut _screams_ at him. It sinks sharpened fangs into his flesh and tears and rips and revels, because Jon knows Damian is right. People are out there right now who need help. Help he can provide. It is beyond selfish of him to refuse for such childish reasons like he’s _tired_ or _stressed_ or shaking with barely suppressed terror at the very idea of putting the cape back on.

Before Damian shows up in his apartment, Jon doubts he’s a good person. Maybe he was once, maybe he was just acting in some facsimile of one in his dad’s shadow, but now? Now Jon is certain. He’s a failure. A disappointment. A blot, marring that almighty “S” everyone cherishes so dearly. Because even now, even as Damian, who has dragged him out on so many missions before, comes to him crippled and bleeding, asking for his help to save innocents, Jon can’t bring himself to go with his old friend. He begs to, he _yearns_ to, but he can’t. Something cold and pale and stony holds him back and solidifies his… resolve seems too positive a word for it. It isn’t strength at the core of his refusal. It’s fear, pure and simple. “Find someone else.” Jon says. “You’re the one overstaying your welcome. If lives are in danger, you’d save them faster if you called in backup from heroes who are actually working.”

“How can you sit idly-”

_Because I’m not the person you think I am._ “Because I’m not a hero!” _Because I’m not strong enough._ “ _You’re_ the one ignoring procedure! It’s been made crystal clear that I’m not an active hero, anymore!” Jon fears Damian can see how his tightly clenched fists shake at his side. Damian is certainly too observant to miss such an obvious tell. _Pathetic._ “Superboy is retired! Don’t assume I’ll drop everything I’ve been doing to run out the moment _you_ decide I should!”

“Jon! Superboy is needed! Will you just ignore the call of duty?”

_Don’t ask me that. Please._ “I will! That’s not my job anymore!”

“Then why did you help me?”

Jon sputters. _Because you’re my friend. Because you could die. Because… I’m selfish and I can’t distance myself enough from you to stop._ “Because you were _bleeding_ on _my floors_. I don’t know what you’re doing, and I don’t _care_.” This much, at least, is honest. Jon doesn’t necessarily not care at all, but he cares far less than he should. And he _does_ desperately wish to _not_ know. “I’m done with that life. I’m finally starting to feel-”

“I don’t care what kind of tantrum your leave has been about.” Damian says. “You’re needed now, so come on!”

_Stop pushing._ There’s a tightness in Jon’s chest, restricting his breath, stronger than any chains. _If you don’t, I don’t know what…_ “Are you just _incapable_ of listening?!”

“…Jon? Wha-”

_Thunk._

Everything falls into deathly silence as all three people in the room absorb what just happened. Marinette, in her nightgown, sleepy and disoriented from being woken up by the yelling, is standing there in the entranceway, wide alert now, looking between Jon, Damian, the window, Damian’s bandaged leg, the bloody towel on the coffee table, and the batarang firmly rooted in the wall an inch from her head.

Damian just threw a batarang at Marinette. At _Marinette_.

“Never mind.” Marinette says coldly. Jon’s heart turns to ice at the frigid tone. It doesn’t belong in her voice. “I don’t want to know.” She turns away, like Jon is up at such a dumb hour eating ice cream instead of fighting with a hero standing in front of a man-sized hole in their window.

When Jon hears the click of her door closing, he rounds on Damian. Self-pity, self-loathing, doubt, all of it leave his heart in an instant. All he feels now is anger. Something fiery consumes him and he sees red. “Get the _hell_ out of my home.”

“I-”

“How fucking _dare_ you! You break into my house, demand my help when I’ve already made it clear you shouldn’t call me for that, and you _attack_ my _roommate_?! Do you realize what you’ve just done?!”

“She has remarkable reflexes.” Damian says.

“Get the hell out of my house!”

Damian clears his throat awkwardly. In a calmer state of mind, Jon will later remember this is a sign of Damian’s embarrassment, but at the moment he doesn’t care to think twice about the gesture. “Yes… of course. You clearly have damage control to do here, with your identity possibly compromised to a civilian. I’ll find someone unoccupied to assist with my mission.”

Jon just gapes at him. “What the hell is _wrong_ with you?!”

Damian picks up the circle of glass and hangs outside the window for a moment to fix it back in place and seal it before he takes off.

The window looks good as new, but there’s a bloody rag on Jon’s coffee table and… the damage is done. _Oh, God._ He sighs, picking up the towel again and throwing it in the sink. _Now what?_

He has no idea how much Marinette heard, if anything, but even just seeing Damian here in his hero costume is dangerous. She’ll wonder how he knows Damian, why Damian came here.

All this, coming to New York, all this work in college, his entire life right now, is to get away from heroism. In one night, Damian breaks in and uproots all of it. Months of building up his life here, and now he’s in the deep end of the hero nonsense again. _Great. Just great._

Maybe… maybe it’s salvageable. Maybe it’s okay. Maybe… there’s only one way to find out. He has to start damage control as soon as he can. _God, I’m tired._

He spends another few minutes wringing the blood out of the towel. It’s as good as it’s going to get, but he thinks he’ll still probably buy a new one tomorrow. Then, with a heavy sigh, Jon trods over to Marinette’s door.

He raps gently on the wood. “Marinette?”

“I don’t want to know, Jon!” Marinette’s icy voice cuts into him. This… isn’t the reaction he expects. Especially with Alya as her best friend, he expects her to be asking him for all the details. He expects it’ll change everything, and he _hates_ that it will, but he certainly doesn’t expect that all the kindness and warmth, all the friendliness and cheer, will vanish just like that.

He knows the batarang must have scared her. He deserves her anger, her confusion, her fear. That, he understands. But this? Cold fury, something deep, something hurt, like betrayal. A wall of ice built between them in an instant. He doesn’t understand, he can’t understand, but it hurts him regardless, to hear her voice that way. To hear the pain in her voice. “Marinette? At least let me explain.”

“I said I don’t want to know!” The door swings open, giving Jon a clear view of Marinette’s clenched jaw and white knuckles and her deadly glare. “I don’t care why he was here. I don’t care how you know him. I don’t want to know. Whatever your business is with heroes, I don’t want anything to do with it. Understand? Leave me out of it.”

She slams the door in his face.

Jon has never heard her sound that way before. It’s frightening, but mostly it makes him feel like his world is falling apart. Months of his life, all the normal he’s managed to find, gone. Just like that. With the slam of a door.

_Now what?_

* * *

Marinette won’t talk to him. Jon fixes the hole in the wall and snaps the batarang that caused it in half with his bare hands. He hides the pieces away in his closet where he doesn’t have to look at them. There’s a new towel in their kitchen. At any glance, the apartment is back to normal.

But Marinette won’t talk to him. She treats him like the plague. She comes home late, going straight to her room when she does. If she sticks around in the morning long enough to make coffee or tea, she makes her own cup and leaves. The few times she’s home for dinner, she cooks just for herself and eats in her room.

Life is… normal. He’s still going to class, he’s still living here in New York, his apartment is back to normal. But it doesn’t feel like normal. It feels like hell. It feels like everything he tried to run away from when he left the hero life behind him is kicking him square in the butt over and over again. Every time Marinette’s gaze sweeps over him and continues like he’s not even there, every quiet, quiet evening in when she’s not in the apartment and he doesn’t know if she’s out getting dinner or working late in the library, or… or anything.

It’s almost like she isn’t even there anymore.

Jon leaves a post-it note in the entranceway, right inside the door, before the hallway turns. It says to take off his shoes. He’s not sure if he’s trying to get her attention somehow or if he just misses her getting on his case about it. It works, though. He replaces his shoes with the indoor ones Marinette got for him early on. She doesn’t comment on it.

He can’t focus anymore. When he sits down to study, he just feels this dread hang over him. When he’s in class he just feels out of place. Like he doesn’t belong. It’s frustrating, and it pisses him off, and that only makes it harder to focus on his work.

He tries. He _tries_ so hard. He’s doing everything he can, but he can’t sit still and let that overhanging pain consume him. He can’t stop to look at his notes, because if he does it’ll catch up with him and he can’t handle that. He feels like he’s always on the move, searching for something to do, something to distract him, but at the same time he can _feel_ himself stagnating and it makes him feel dirty and gross and he _hates_ it and he scrubs himself so thoroughly every day but the filth he feels never goes away.

Even being a hero was better than this. But then he listens for that tell-tale shriek he’s been shutting out for so many months and he’s not sure it’s not coming from _him_ because the thought of flying to the rescue, of punching some thief and _getting involved_ in something that’s none of his business makes him nauseous. It makes his heart race and he can’t breathe, and he aches all over, wondering what’s wrong with him.

A small, sensible part of him says, _“You were ten. Of course, you’re messed up, now.”_

A more cynical part says, _“Damian was younger. He’s not having a panic attack because some lady is getting her purse stolen.”_

Surprisingly, it’s that same cynical part of him that helpfully counters itself. _“Sure, he’s still a hero, but do you really want to call Damian_ okay _?”_

_Yeah, that’s fair._

_This is all his fault, anyway._

Diligently, like clockwork, he works on the schedule that he built over his first semester. He goes to class, and when he gets home, he writes down all his assignments on the whiteboard over his desk. Marinette’s idea. It’s the only reason he made it through the transition to college from high school.

Now, though, he just stares at the assignments there in black ink and stares and stares and wills himself to do them but doesn’t ever actually move. He hates it so much. He’s never been just unable to _do_ things before, but now the farthest he ever gets is pulling the paper out, then all he can do is stare at it until his mind wanders and he ends up clicking through websites like a tiger pacing it’s cage at the zoo. Always moving, always going back and forth, but never _doing_ anything.

When he gets his midterm scores back, Jon decides he can’t do this anymore. If he keeps going at this rate, he’ll lose what grip he does still have on his grades and he won’t have a choice but to go home and back to… back to Superboy.

He can’t go back to Superboy. Whatever else this reprieve of duty has done to him, he just can’t handle that anymore. He knows what he needs. He had a taste of it. Just a tiny, tiny, prototype of it, but he had it. That normalcy. That feeling like he knows what he’s doing, that he’s okay, and that things will work out. He had it and he lost it. And he doesn’t know how to get it back.

“Mom?”

He hears his mom’s gentle sigh over the phone. That familiar, knowing sigh she does when she knows she’s gearing up for something big. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Jon explains the situation to her. No details spared. He tells her about Damian showing up, about Marinette seeing him, about her avoiding him and his slipping grades, and about how much going back to being Superboy terrifies him. He tells her how frustrated he is because he had, for just a moment, exactly what he wanted right in his hands and Damian came and knocked it to the floor and shattered it. He tells her how angry he is with Damian. With himself. With how he’s afraid what his dad will think of him if he’s so weak he can’t even save himself, much less be a hero worthy of being the son of Superman. He tells her how alone and stagnant he feels, how _evil_ he feels for turning down Damian in the first place, and he begs her for help.

It’s a long, long, mostly one-sided conversation, punctuated by long periods of nothing but crying, but he tells her everything because he doesn’t have any other route to take.

“Sweetie, if you can’t be Superboy, then you can’t be Superboy.” His mom says. “Your dad and I do feel differently about it, but you remember what he said when you first talked to him about this? Good people help because they _can_. Honey, you _can’t_. And that’s okay. Not doing something you can’t do doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you normal.” And now he’s crying again. “He won’t be upset with you if you don’t go back to being a hero. He just wants you to be happy, same as I do. And it takes a lot more strength to admit when we can’t do something than to kill ourselves trying anyway. I’m proud of you. And he is, too.

“And I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you about Marinette. If she doesn’t want to be around you, then… there’s not much you can do but keep trying to be happy without her. I know she’s your friend, but… there’s only so much you can do. If she’s really against it, you might have to say goodbye.”

“I don’t want to.” Jon chokes out. “Mom, she’s my normal.”

“You found normal once. You can do it again.”

Jon frantically scrubs at his eyes, trying to stop the tears. “I… S’pose.” The thought doesn’t make him feel better, but it does make sense.

“And I think you should talk to Damian.”

“I don’t want to see him.” Jon growls.

“Jon, he’s your friend, too. You _both_ woke up Marinette. It was wrong of him to ask you to help with his mission, but don’t blame him for what isn’t entirely his fault.”

There’s a spike in Jon’s heart, and it’s twisted because he knows she’s right.

“Don’t lose two friends over this, Jon.”

_God_ , she’s right. Jon has to go talk to him. He doesn’t want to, but… he has to. Knowing Damian, he probably doesn’t fully understand _why_ Jon’s even mad at him, so he has to. To at least give Damian a chance to understand.

Even if a part of him says good riddance, and that he’s better off without Damian always there to drag him back into the world of heroes.

* * *

Alfred answers the door of the manor and barely looks him up and down before telling Jon that Damian is in the batcave. Jon trudges past the old butler, following old paths through the manor he’d memorized a lifetime ago.

Damian catches sight of him the moment he enters and nods his acknowledgement. Jon notes that Tim is here, but he can’t bring himself to care.

It feels weird, walking into the batcave in an old flannel and worn-out jeans. It’s weird to not even have his suit underneath. This place feels so deeply entrenched with Jon’s memory of heroism that he feels out of place as he is. Underdressed, in a way.

“You should be talking to your father about returning to duty.” Damian says. “Hiding here won’t help.”

“I’m not returning to duty.” Jon says tiredly. “I’m here to talk to you.”

Damian pauses. He’s not expressive, _per se_ , but Jon knows him too well. He knows Damian is embarrassed about the incident. Perhaps even… guilty? Jon’s too tired to think too much about it. “Ah. Right. Speak, then.”

Jon takes a deep breath to stamp down on the rage that bubbles up at Damian’s dismissive tone. Like he didn’t do anything wrong. Like he didn’t come by uninvited and… “You ruined my life.” Jon says quietly. “Do you understand that?”

Damian frowns at him. “There’s no need to get dramatic. This Marinette girl may have heard a bit too much, but she’s only one person. This can be solved easily.”

Jon groans. “That’s not what I’m talking about!” He pauses to breathe some more. He refuses to cry in the _batcave_. Especially not in front of Damian. “I’m not Superboy anymore. I’m not a hero anymore. I quit for a _reason_ , Damian. I quit because I wanted… I just wanted _one_ thing. I wanted _something_ that could make me feel… okay. I _can’t_ be Superboy, because I- because I…” More deep breaths. _Stay calm._ “Because I’m _not_ okay. And I went to New York, to college, because I thought I could find something normal. I thought I could- I could be _me_ and not have to fight all the time. And I _did_! I was happy! I felt safe, and I felt like I could- like I could- I felt like things would be okay.

“And then you came in. Now Marinette won’t talk to me. I’m all alone and I’m only getting _worse_ , but every time I think about going back to being Superboy I _panic_ because I can’t- I can’t fight like that again. I just… physically… I…” He sighs and focuses on his breathing again. “I thought I could be happy. But now that’s ruined.”

Jon notes that Damian stops looking at him somewhere along the line, but all he hears is Damian’s flippant retort. “You’ll get over her. Just because you love this girl doesn’t mean her not liking you is the end of the world.”

That’s where Jon sees red. He stalks up and grabs Damian by the collar, half-surprised that Damian _lets_ him, but not hesitating to lift Damian into the air. “Don’t talk about her like that! You don’t understand _anything_! Don’t trivialize this like that! It’s not about love, Damian! I’m not in love with her! She was my _normal_! She was- She was…” Jon chokes on his own words and drops Damian so he can turn away and focus on keeping his tears from slipping free. “You don’t get it. I don’t know why I came here. I’m just going to- I’m going to go.”

“Wait, Jon.” Jon stops, turning back to look at Damian. Damian sighs, though it comes out as more of a huff. “I’m sorry.” He says. “I… I didn’t know why you quit, and I assumed… I shouldn’t have, and I apologize.”

It’s not much, but it’s an apology. It doesn’t fix anything, but it does make Jon feel just a little less broken. “Thanks.” Jon says quietly. “I’m sorry, too. I was yelling, too. It’s not entirely your fault she woke up.”

Damian just nods stiffly in acknowledgement, still refusing to meet Jon’s eye. “Would you… like help reconciling with Marinette? Perhaps if I-”

“ _God_ , no. For Christ’s sake, please don’t even step foot in New York.” Jon says it more biting than he means, but that doesn’t seem to bother Damian much. “Marinette doesn’t want anything to do with heroes. Quite frankly, I don’t disagree. If you come in trying to fix everything, it’ll only get worse.”

“…I understand. If you do need my assistance, I will be available for you.”

Jon stares at him for a while, wondering how he feels about that. He’s still resentful, a bit, but Damian is trying. He’s a far cry from that bratty thirteen-year-old that dragged little ten-year-old Jon around on wacky, life-threatening adventures. Jon supposes he’s pretty different now himself, too.

“Thanks, Damian. I appreciate that.”


	5. She's been chasing an answer, a sign lost in the abyss.

Nothing can prepare Marinette for what she sees in the dead of night, after being awoken by unclear yelling.

It’s frightening, being woken in the middle of the night by shouting, but Marinette hears Jon’s voice and she figures he can probably handle whatever it is. Still, even if she’s tired, she has to help him. She’s not a hero anymore, but she’s not about to leave her roommate to fight off an intruder alone – if that is what’s happening. Jon’s just a college student, after all, and she still has Tikki to fall back on.

She slips her earrings in but doesn’t want to assume the worst. There’s indistinct yelling, yes, but no crashes or thuds to indicate fighting, so she’s hoping whoever Jon is talking to is someone he knows. She really hopes so. She really doesn’t want to have to fight.

So, she creeps out of her room, moving towards the living room. “Jon?” She calls softly, sleepily. “Wha-?” She’s rounding the corner and sees Jon’s broad back before- _Thunk!_ She jumps an inch back towards the hallway and find herself staring at a wickedly pointed… throwing knife? But double-sided? _No… the shape…_ A batarang. Lodged in her wall.

She casts her glare out to the boys in the room. The one in a ridiculous costume has his leg bandaged, and there’s a towel from the kitchen on the coffee table, red with blood. Jon is pale, staring at Marinette like she’s a ghost. The heroic intruder (who cut a _hole_ in her _window_?!) is just scowling at her. She scowls right back.

“Never mind.” She says before either of the boys decide to try something. Whatever they’re up to, it’s clearly hero business. And that means it’s none of hers. “I don’t want to know.”

There’s a leaden ball in her guts when she turns away. It’s cold in her core and it weighs her down, making every step back to her room more and more difficult. It takes up too much space inside her, limiting her breathing.

Marinette closes her door and sinks down to the floor. _What the hell just happened? Jon is…_

_No. Don’t think about it. It doesn’t matter what Jon is. It’s none of your business. It’s not your problem._

“Marinette…” Tikki says gently. “You shouldn’t have walked out like that. You need to talk to Jon so he can expla-”

“I don’t want the explanation!” Marinette hisses. “If Jon is- If _he_ is- then what did I come here for? What did I leave my whole life behind for?!” Marinette tugs hard on her hair. “I don’t want to hear it. I can’t hear him say it. Tikki, I can’t. Just when I thought I could have a normal life. Just when I thought…”

“Don’t you think that’s unfair?”

“What unfair,” Marinette growls, “is that I moved all the way to America to _avoid_ heroes. I broke up with Adrien to put all this behind me. And my roommate, my _friend_ , my- the one person I felt most _normal_ with is… That’s what’s _unfair_.”

There’s an expected rapping at the door, but it’s softer than Marinette assumes it will be. It’s timid and careful and Jon’s voice is even more so. “Marinette?”

“I don’t want to know, Jon!” She says. The lead in her gut turns molten, boiling her inside out in the most painful way possible.

When he tries again, it’s impossible to miss how hurt he sounds. How small and scared he sounds. It’s a punch in the stomach when she hears it, but somehow it only makes her angrier, even as she hurts for him in addition to herself. “Marinette? At least let me explain.”

She can’t. She can’t let him explain because then he’ll say everything she can’t bear to hear. “I said I don’t want to know!” She wrenches the door open, hoping that looking him in the eyes when she says it will scare him off. So that he won’t keep trying. So she doesn’t have to keep fighting to stop him from breaking what little remains of her already fragile sense of home and normality. “I don’t care why he was here. I don’t care how you know him. I don’t want to know. Whatever your business is with heroes, I don’t want anything to do with it. Understand? Leave me out of it.”

Jon looks like she’s just slapped him. She can’t look at him looking like that. It hurts too much. So, she slams the door.

Months of her life. The six-year relationship she cut off for _this_. A country an ocean away from her home. All of it, everything she’s been building, it’s all falling down. One night and her whole life collapses. _That’s what’s unfair._

“Marinette!” Tikki scolds. “Don’t shut him out! You won’t move past this if you don-”

“I’m sorry, Tikki.” Marinette rips the earrings out and replaces them in their box and tucks the box away deep in her closet. Safe, but nowhere she’s going to stumble across it. The last thing she needs right now is a lecture from a freaking _kwami_.

She just wishes and wishes and wishes, as if a wish ardent enough can magically erase tonight. She wishes for _one thing_ in her life to just be _normal_.

* * *

“Morning, Marinette.” Jon’s voice is hesitant in a way it never has been before. It makes Marinette flinch. _It’s not his fault._ The sensible and kind part of her says. _He’s not responsible for your hero issues._

She spares him a glance, opens her mouth to try to say something, but nothing comes out. Her throat closes up at the sight of him. No matter what she knows is true about the situation, her heart screams “Betrayal” and the image of him and that hero is seared into her skull.

A life an ocean away from Paris and it’s superheroes. Abandoning her duties as guardian, pawning them off on Adrien before dumping him, all to get away from heroes. All of that, and heroes still find her in her own home.

It flays her alive. It digs into her flesh and _hurts_ , but deep down it makes her so, so angry. Everything she’s given up. Home, family, the love of her life, and the very thing she sacrificed so much to avoid worms its way into the one place she thought she was safe. The one person she trusted. And ladybugs are supposed to be _lucky_. What a joke.

She doesn’t look at Jon. She can’t bear to. She can’t allow him to speak what she knows now into reality, but she also can’t stand to look at the way her rejection hurts him. It would have hurt her, if anyone she told hated her for being Ladybug. If Alya had turned on her for keeping that secret, rather than shriek with joy, if Adrien doubted his love for even one moment, instead of reinvigorating it, it would have torn Marinette apart.

That she’s doing this now is… but she just can’t face him. How is she supposed to face him? How is she supposed to let him explain how he’s a hero and how everything Marinette has done for the past six months has been pointless?

It’s frightening, and Marinette is no hero. She’s not brave enough to face it.

* * *

Jon takes off his shoes now. It’s a silly thing to notice, but then it’s hard not to with the bright yellow sticky note in their hallway saying, “Shoes, Jon!” Sometimes, he doesn’t even make it past the bend in the hallway before he remembers to change his shoes when he comes home.

Not that Marinette sees him come home much. Usually, she’s the one coming in late. It’s just easier this way, studying in the library or speaking with tutors or using school resources to work on a project until there’s nothing left for her to do but sleep. That way she doesn’t have to stand in such small quarters with him and pretend he’s not there. Pretend there’s nothing wrong.

Jon gives up, somewhere along the line. Too many times he reaches out to her and is slapped away and now he cradles that hand, once outstretched to her, nursing the bite she leaves.

It’s unfair. There’s nothing fair about this. Not the way she’s treating him, not the way he reminds her of everything she’s terrified of, not the way he closes off to her, not the way they keep maintaining this façade of living together when they don’t speak for weeks. Not the way she loses another friend, maybe one of her most cherished (because he’s a friend she’s found something more valuable in than she can imagine – safety, home, warm quilts and cold ice cream and Disney movies in the dark), to the same thing she has already sacrificed the rest of her life to.

Jon is supposed to be the thing she can keep. He’s supposed to be her new home, her normal, but he’s a ghost of her old one haunting her. He tears away everything she thought she built, but it’s not his _fault_ and it’s so _unfair_ that she still blames him. It’s unfair that she can’t get over this.

She stares at the ornamental box holding Tikki’s earrings. She digs it out of her closet on occasion, when it’s hardest to keep moving forward. More often as the days pass by. Tikki always helps her. The sage advice of an ageless god is usually pretty sound, after all. Yet Marinette makes no move to open the box. The thought makes her sick. To willingly subject herself to that again. Not Tikki, Marinette loves Tikki, but everything Tikki represents. The cage that closes in on her. The responsibility she’s still ignoring, the people she’s a world away from, all the obligations and duties from a life she thought she was managing to leave behind her.

If she opens that box, if she asks for Tikki’s help, she’s erecting that cage once more. She’s shackling herself back to everything she’s trying to escape from, and then fixing things with Jon won’t _matter_ because either way she’s trapped.

Marinette feels stuck between a rock and a hard place and both forces are crushing her between them. She’s in pain, she’s confused, and even if she’s not a hero anymore, and even if she has people she trusts with her life, and even if she can’t bring herself to even look at Jon, she _knows_ what being a hero is like. She knows how important it is. So, she refuses to tell anyone about it.

Everyone notices she’s off. They know her, so of course, they do. Adrien tries to coax her to open up when Alya’s interrogation doesn’t work, but Marinette won’t risk Jon’s identity that way, not even with Alya or Adrien or her parents. She won’t tell them about Jon’s connection to heroism, or even the facts of the night that starts all this. She won’t give them a hint of even what little she knows for certain. She’s stays mum. Even if Alya and Adrien are trustworthy, she refuses to be that person she was always so scared of when she was a hero herself. She refuses to give anyone, regardless of her own opinion of them, even a chance of connecting Jon to heroes in any way if he’s not okay with it.

And while she’s satisfied with that, it does mean that she’s all alone.

And it _sucks_.

* * *

In hindsight, she should expect the grades she gets on her midterms. She doesn’t, but she should. Despite the late nights studying or working or just busying herself, she’s never really present when she does any of it, so it makes sense that her grades plummet.

Hell, she barely remembers taking the tests in the first place.

But she stares at the numbers written atop her test and doesn’t truly read them, anyway. She feels numb. If her grades keep going this way, that’s just another thing that will end this whole endeavor of hers. Another thing that’ll shove her back in that cage.

But… even without a cage, is a bird truly free if its wings are clipped? What’s the point of tearing down the bars if she still can’t fly? Maybe she _should_ go back to Paris. Maybe she should be Ladybug again. Maybe this whole idea was a mistake. Maybe she just isn’t meant to be happy.

_“You promised Adrien.”_ Some tiny part of her reminds her. _“You promised you’d do whatever it takes to be happy.”_

_I tried. I’m trying my best._

_“Are you a liar? Are you going to break your promise?”_

_I don’t think I have a choice._

_“There’s always a solution. There’s always a choice.”_

Marinette curls into a ball, trying to shut out what sense remains in her. Maybe if she can, she can be happy in ignorance. Maybe if she can get rid of the Ladybug part of her for real, the part that refuses to let her give up, she can find home somewhere else and not give Jon or this apartment another thought. That’s what she wants to do.

It’s not what’s right, though. And with all she’s sacrificed, with all she’s given up, with how she’s hurt the people she loves following this path, hurt Adrien, she owes it to herself and everyone to follow through.

_Even now, I can’t stop being a hero._ She thinks bitterly. _For Adrien. You promised him you’d be happy._

Jon doesn’t pay her any more mind than she does him. That is to say, he stares at her in silence on occasion, on the rare chance they’re together long enough to do so, but he doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything. Their finals are rapidly approaching, as is the end of their lease. They’re going to have to get ahold of themselves if they want to pass their classes, and one way or another they’re going to have to decide if they’re going to stay together next year or if this is goodbye.

Marinette honestly doesn’t know which option she wants.

Someone is going to have to break the silence, and… she is the one that started it. Is it a heroic thing to do, to speak through silence so deafening? It feels like it. It burns her. But it has to happen.

“Jon…” Marinette hasn’t been literally silent since the incident. She’s been talking like normal to her friends and family, just not at home. Still, her voice is croaky, like it hasn’t been used in years.

Jon’s dulled eyes snap to her, a spark of surprise momentarily bringing life back into them.

“I can’t keep doing this, Jon.” Marinette says. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry for shutting you out. I just… I can’t deal with heroes.” She pauses, but still Jon just stares at her. She ducks her head, training her eyes on her tea. She makes it to calm her, but it isn’t doing its job very well. “…We should probably arrange for different places next year.”

She glances up, daring to watch him closely. He sags in his chair, closes his eyes, slips his fingers under his glasses to rub at them. “I’m sorry.” He chokes out. “I… Can I- Can I at least explain everything? Please? I… I _liked_ it here. I liked it when we were friends and things felt normal.” _Normal._ There’s that word. Marinette supposes Jon’s definition is more like Adrien’s than hers. “If you don’t want to live together anymore, I can’t stop you…”

“We haven’t been living together for a while, Jon.”

He sighs. “No, I guess not. But… You can keep this place if you want. Get a different roommate. I’ll move out. I just- Can I please explain? I hate that we never even talked about it.”

Marinette fears she’ll crush her teacup. “It’s hard for me to talk about.” She admits.

“Will you be okay just listening?”

“I’m not sure.” They’re sitting in that too-heavy silence for too long again and it feels like their recent, sick, festering “normal” and it’s too much for Marinette to take. “I will listen, though. I… I liked living together, too. It was fun. It felt… normal. I owe you this much.”

Jon closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath. “I was Superboy.” He says. Marinette… is not too surprised. Jon with that “S” on his chest makes a bit too much sense. Not to mention, it explains why his parents are so good on news about Superman and him. “I quit being a hero before I came here. I thought…” He sighs again. “I thought I could hang up the cape and just go to college like anyone else and I’d feel normal. I’d feel… human. And I did. I was starting to, at least. That’s why I don’t want another roommate, because you made me feel like… You gave me everything I came here to find. I thought I could be happy this way.”

Marinette sets her jaw. Her teacup is burning her palms, and her knuckles hurt with how she’s holding it, but she barely feels it. “I think I know what you mean.” She says.

Jon shakes his head. “I was a hero since I was ten, Marinette. I don’t… I don’t know any different. But… even so… I…” He sets his glasses down on the table and covers his face. She can hear how he’s working to control his breathing. “When I think about going back, about fighting again, I get… I can’t do it. I just can’t do it, Marinette. So… I don’t know what you have against heroes, but… I promise, I’m not one anymore. I don’t know if you can- can- I don’t know. Forgive me for having been one. But you don’t need to worry about being around one now.” He’s quiet for a moment. Marinette doesn’t know what to say. Then, he adds, “I came to New York to get away from being a hero. I thought I could… I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now.”

The irony makes Marinette want to laugh. Or cry. Or both. And still… knowing he’s retired just like she is puts her at ease. Not totally, but… a lot. Enough, for now. “I’m the same, you know.” She says. She’s so quiet she’s not sure he even hears except for how he lifts his head to look at her. She debates telling him for a moment, but if she can trust anyone with her identity, it’s him. He knows exactly what she’s going through. His situation is… frighteningly similar. And he deserves an explanation. How she’s been treating him is unfair and cruel. He deserves to know the reason for it. “I was Ladybug.”

“…Oh.”

“I came to New York, to America, to get away from being a hero.” Marinette admits. “And when I saw you with one, I just… I felt like everything I gave up was for nothing. Like I just uprooted my whole life, left my home, my friends, the man I love, all for nothing. Because I was happy here, too, but then, just when this place was starting to feel like a real home, everything I tried to get away from ended up being right inside our home anyway.”

“I… yeah. I know how you feel.”

“Hurts, right? That the person you found normal with wasn’t normal at all to start with?”

Jon flinches. “Yeah. A lot.”

“…I don’t blame you.” Marinette says. “I know it’s not your fault. I’m sorry I hurt you, I just…”

“It still feels kind of like a betrayal.” Jon finishes for her. “Even though I know it’s a… dumb cosmic one neither of us are really responsible for. Doesn’t stop it from hurting.”

“Exactly.”

“I get it. I’m not mad, either. I’m just…”

“Sad. Hurt.”

“Exactly.” Jon leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell kind of luck have we got? Two former heroes trying to leave that life behind us, and we end up as roommates.”

“In a city neither of us are from.” Marinette adds. It’s small, weak, but she smiles. _Utterly ridiculous._ “Fate really is mean sometimes.”

Jon sighs. “Yeah. So… what now?”

“I don’t know, Jon. I don’t know.”

Jon slowly puts his glasses back on, but trains his eyes on the table as he says, “Is this a bad thing? That we’re both what we are? I’m not sure I can tell.”

Marinette chuckles. “Me neither. On one hand, I don’t have to hide anything. I don’t have to pretend I wasn’t ever a hero. On the other…”

“On the other,” Jon says, “I’m sick and tired of heroes, and I kind of want nothing to do with them.”

“On the bright side, we understand each other beautifully.” Marinette says.

Jon snorts, laughing reluctantly. “There’s that, at least. Too bad we don’t understand ourselves right now.”

Marinette can’t help but giggle along. “I think both of us let our grades slip recently.”

Jon grimaces. “…You too?”

She nods. “We don’t have to decide about the place for another week or so, right? So, why don’t we just… try? Try this as we are, focus on getting ready for finals in the meantime, and… and if we feel like we can be okay when the time comes, we can room together again.”

Jon smiles. It’s still hurt, fragile, and vulnerable, but he smiles. “That sounds like a great plan.”

“Who knows?” Marinette says, taking a risk to punch his shoulder playfully. “Maybe this’ll be a good thing in the long run.”

“Aha. I don’t know, but I sure hope so.”

* * *

“Good morning, Marinette.”

Marinette yawns, heading directly to their coffee machine only to find a still-steaming mug on the counter right next to it. She blinks blearily at it for a moment before grabbing it. She can tell from the color that it’s made how she likes it. Jon’s is different. “Morning, Jon.” She says, sipping her coffee. It’s exactly how she likes it.

She isn’t sure why she doesn’t expect that. Their whole problem was only this semester, and they have a whole first semester of experience living together to fall back on. Something just feels unsteady about it. Like, because the first half of them knowing each other is obscured by the betrayal of heroism haunting them, it doesn’t really mean much at all.

But that’s just not true. They may not know each other like they hope, but they still know each other. It’s in the little things, like this, like Jon remembering how she likes her coffee and knowing when she wakes up so well that the cup he makes for her is as perfect as middling coffee brewed in a second-hand coffee-maker can be. Just the right amount of cream, just the right amount of sugar, at just the right temperature. The warmth hits the back of Marinette’s throat and radiates outwards from there, flooding her body, and she feels, for the first time in what seems like forever, a step closer to okay.

The normal that they found so quickly in each other, in only just a few months, the normal that gives them hope that they can find it again, it’s still worth something. It isn’t fake. It’s real. They aren’t just imagining it. It feels so much like a distant memory, faded to the point of being illusory, but it’s real. Marinette wants that back.

Marinette focuses on her drink. Really, she should have expected what happened. What seems too good to be true, is. From the moment she hit it off with Jon, the moment they fell into comfortable routine, the moment he became one of her best friends, she should have known it couldn’t be left unsoiled.

But he is retired. He _quit_ , just like she did. And that, for everything else it is, is a little miraculous.

She doesn’t have time to linger on it. If she wants to come back to America next year, she needs to get on top of her finals. Granted, she’s not in a _horrible_ position, but this semester has been rough. She’s not on the verge of failing just yet but if she doesn’t work hard it’s not out of the question. She suspects Jon is in the same boat, too. As much as she’d like to sit with him and talk and try to find a new normal, she needs to study. If she doesn’t, whatever chance at normal she has with Jon will be gone anyway.

They sit at the table together but don’t talk. Both of them have textbooks in front of them as they eat their breakfast. It’s not quite where they were before, and it’s not even quite comfortable, but it’s not totally awkward. It’s somewhere in-between, in almost every sense.

“I’ve got to get to class.” Marinette says, checking the time. “I’m going to stop by the tutoring center, too, so I probably won’t be back until dinner.”

“Alright.” Jon says. The conversation sounds so familiar, but it’s strange. Muted. There’s no life to it. It makes Marinette squirm, but she can’t fix it yet. It’s going to take time. Jon feels as betrayed as she did, knowing she’s Ladybug, and she stopped talking to him for months because of it. They’re brave and valiant together to keep trying this way, but it won’t be fixed overnight with one heart-to-heart. “I’ll see you then.”

Marinette wants nothing more than to stay, to keep talking, to never let silence consume them again, but instead she just ducks her head, gathers her things, and leaves.

Class is alright. Marinette still doesn’t feel like she can give it her all, but she can give it enough. She can take her notes and she can memorize facts, even if she can’t truly process them and use them like she normally would. She can give her tutors enough attention that they smile at her, soft little things telling her that they notice and that they’re glad she’s on the path to recovery from whatever has been distracting her.

Jon makes dinner for the both of them, but when they sit down to eat together, they don’t talk. Notes and textbooks are still on the table, but as Marinette watches Jon, he’s more focused on pushing the food around his plate than on studying.

It feels almost like a role reversal. Marinette knows him well enough by now to know that he has so much to say hidden inside him. So many words that want to spill from those lips. But she knows intimately how the moment he tries to push any out they wither on his tongue and end up dry, powdery, incomprehensible.

She knows because she’s the same way. She can’t break the silence any more than he can. Not for any more than little things.

Luckily, the little things are important. Marinette takes his plate when they’re both finished, murmurs a “no problem” to his “thank you” and takes care of the dishes while he’s still studying at the table.

Little things, like how they can at least study together, even if they’re doing so independently. Little things, like how he rolls a highlighter to her even if he can’t meet her gaze to do so. Little things, like how they say good night, and how Jon still changes his shoes in the entranceway when he comes home, and how Marinette finally thanks him for making the effort.

They’re not quite friends, and this apartment isn’t quite home, but they are roommates again. It’s not much, but it means a lot.

“I don’t want to move.” Marinette says eventually, unprompted, while Jon is watching television with his class notes on his lap. She would chastise him for that, but he doesn’t actually look at the notes for the better part of thirty minutes, so she thinks this can qualify as a break rather than study time.

“Neither do I.” Jon says. “So?”

“So, want to be roommates again next year?”

Jon looks over to her curiously. “Really? I kind of… I mean we haven’t- we’re not exactly-”

“I know.” Marinette says. “It’s still weird, knowing you’re Superboy.”

“ _Very_ weird.” Jon agrees.

“But we’re… okay, right? Not good, maybe, but we’re okay.”

He smiles. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

“And we have the whole summer to get used to the idea. With some space to process it all. When we get back…”

“When we get back, maybe we’ll be good?”

Marinette nods. “It’s weird. And it’s scary. I think on some level I’m still afraid that our friendship was just… both of us trying too hard to be normal. Like it’s insincere, somehow.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing. We both wanted that so badly, and we hit it off when we first met, so we just… threw all those desires onto each other without thinking about it.” Jon winces. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Me neither. But…” Marinette takes a seat next to him on the sofa with a heavy sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t? Maybe when we’re not in our own way we really do get along that well.”

Jon chuckles. “You were one of my best friends. Which is weird, because thinking about it we haven’t really known each other long. Not when I felt that way, anyway. I’ve been wondering if maybe leaving my old life behind has just… made me so lonely you kind of had to become that to me.”

Now it’s Marinette’s turn to wince. “I understand completely. You were the first thing I had that I thought I could… keep feels like such a bad word to use here, but…”

“To keep. Someone I got in this new part of my life that I don’t have to sacrifice along with everything else I’ve already given up. Yeah, I feel the same way. Keep makes sense.”

“And I wonder if maybe I was clinging a little too hard, considering we’d only known each other for a semester.”

Jon chuckles. “Tell me about it. Maybe you’re right. Maybe the summer apart will be good for us. I just know I’m not ready to give up on this thing we got going on yet.”

“Me neither. Not a chance. You’ll keep in touch, though, right? We can still text each other.”

“Of course, I will!” Jon’s small smile finally breaks into a true grin. “I want us to be good.”

“I want us to be good, too.” Marinette says softly. “How’s finals coming, by the way?”

Jon groans loudly and throws his arm over his eyes as he leans back. “Don’t even start.”


	6. Just put off another day of knowing where you're from.

A lot happens during Jon’s second semester of college. Like, too much, frankly. Between his fight (can he call that a fight?) with Marinette, his struggling grades, his tense relationship with Damian, and the ever-present “S” looming over him no matter how much he tries to avoid it, his second semester isn’t nearly as fun as the first.

And also, he forgets about the thing he is _supposed_ to do that semester. That is, to figure out what on Earth he’s going to do with his life. Being an undecided major isn’t the end of the world if he’s still in his first year, but he goes from “I’ve got plenty of time to figure it out” to “Holy crap, I’ve already finished a year” in no time at all and now he’s signed up for classes for his next semester and _still_ doesn’t even know what he’s going to study.

He’s running out of core classes to waste time on. He’s probably _already_ wasted a few credits and all the money that goes into them. If he wants to graduate on time, then he needs to get his life in order.

Easier said than done. Especially given… well… his life.

And if he’s honest, being home isn’t helping much. Or any. If anything, it’s just stressing him out.

There is peace in his chores. When he goes out to work on the farm, he’s focused, and he knows what he’s doing, and it feels worthwhile. He’s helping in a completely ordinary way. He’s taking some of the burden of the work off his parents.

And with his dad flying away every other night, his mom needs the help. Jon _likes_ to help. The problem is when there’s no more work to do. Because when there’s no more work to do, there’s _nothing_ to do, and all Jon can do is sit in his room, stare at a book, or a screen, and wait until there _is_ something else to do.

_What happened to little me who’d rush through chores just to run off and do something fun?_ Jon thinks, balancing his bookmark on his nose. _Now I draw them out as long as I can, and I have nowhere to run to if I wanted. Where did I used to go?_

His mind wanders to the batcave, and to his base with Damian when they started their little team, and he sighs. _Right. Hero work. Was that all I could think about back then? Why can’t I- Why does it hurt to think about now?_

Jon tosses his bookmark back between the pages in his hands and sets his book aside. He doesn’t want to be a hero. The thought of actually putting the cape back on again makes him feel ill, and when he thinks about facing once more some of the things he’s already beaten, he freezes. It’s like he runs headfirst straight into a brick wall and he’s thrown back, out of breath, aching, and powerless.

So, he opens his window and jumps out like any normal human being, walks a while out onto the flat farmland, and finds one of the sparse trees dotting the landscape. He climbs up into it, consciously avoiding use of flight to make the effort easier, feeling the rough bark on his palms, smelling the earth and wood and the dust and hay, hearing the night bugs singing to each other, and takes a seat on long branch outstretched like a hand.

Directly above him is the tree’s canopy, of course, but forward is the horizon. The land is flat, with only the occasional far-distant farmhouse interrupting it. Behind him, in the distance, if he looks closely, he can see Metropolis, but ahead of him the world stretches until it meets the sky and the dotted farmhouses turn into a multitude of stars, and then there’s a whole galaxy right in front of him.

A galaxy ahead of him, and Jon doesn’t know what to do. He feels so small. Just a kid in a tree in the infinite vastness of space. He can fly anywhere, do anything, and yet… he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know what he wants. All he knows is that it isn’t to go “up, up, and away.”

If every star is some future him that he can become, if every star is an opportunity, which one does he take? Can he fly away with Aquila? Can he grab the handle of the big dipper? Learn to hunt from Orion or play something beautiful with Lyra?

“Heh…” He chuckles, almost huffing. “Ridiculous.”

Idle fantasies are all that is. It’s nice, to think he has so many options, to think he can do anything he dreams. But dreams are dreams and reality is reality. People don’t have those infinite chances, and he’s no different. He just doesn’t want to squander the chances that he does have. Quite frankly, those much more limited chances are already too many for him to process. So how is he supposed to just go out and pick something?

He’s been Superboy his whole life, or all his life that matters, at least. How is he supposed to figure out what he wants to do, if he doesn’t even know who he is? Jon doesn’t know. He doesn’t know much of anything except for that Aquila is way too far above him to ever reach.

Jon is twenty years old. He’s been on this planet for twenty years. Half his life he’s had two names. One devoted to protecting the people of Earth, and one devoted to protecting the other name. Without Superboy he doesn’t have purpose, but… Jon feels the wood of the tree strain under his grip, and it’s only his long, long years of mastering his control that stops him from destroying the branch entirely and sending him plummeting to the ground. He’s not even ten feet up and he’s literally invulnerable, but that drop scares him.

It reminds him of every far worse fall he’s taken, and it reminds him that no one is there to catch him anymore. No one else is on this path he’s started down. No one else is walking away from Perseus. Most people are trying to sail towards it. Most especially his parents.

Well, no one except for Marinette. At least she knows where she wants to end up. She’s running towards another constellation; Jon is simply running away. It makes his eyes sting, like the dust has finally gotten to them, and he ducks his head despite knowing he’ll never spot his next constellation if he can’t look up.

* * *

“Am I a coward?” Jon asks. He’s again in a place he doesn’t belong. He’s underdressed and unprepared but he’s here because he doesn’t know where he’s running and Damian has… well if nothing else, he has a very clear outlook on the world. Perhaps not the best, or healthiest, but it’s stark and defined and solid. And Jon is tired of falling. “Because I can’t be a hero? Does stepping down make me a… scared, selfish…”

“Not at all.”

Jon blinks, taken aback. “Wh- really?”

Damian quirks his brow, giving him a precious glance away from whatever is going on on the computer screen. “Did you want me to say yes?”

Jon runs his hands through his hair. “I’m- I don’t want you to tell me what you think I _want_ to hear! I want to hear what you really think. Am I a coward for quitting being a hero?”

“No.” Damian says. “And I won’t repeat myself a third time.” Jon stares at him, baffled by how _Damian_ freaking _Wayne_ can sit there so casually telling him he’s not a coward as if quitting hero duty doesn’t go against everything the man stands for. Damian, who earlier this very year chastised him for not answering the call of duty when he’s not even _on_ duty, who for their entire lives has been dragging Jon around the world on missions to save it, does _not_ think Jon is chickening out when that’s pretty much objectively what Jon’s doing.

Because it _is_. Jon is just too scared to fight. He’s not dumb, he knows what panic is. Lord knows he’s felt it enough. He’s a nearly invulnerable alien with a whole menagerie of _deus ex machina_ powers and he’s frightened to death of a mugger attacking a stranger. Jon has no idea how on Earth _Damian_ can come to a different conclusion.

Damian sighs. He rubs at his eyes in an unexpectedly tired motion and pulls off his mask. “Jon, you know I am not… the best with things like this.”

_Yeah, you don’t say._ Jon bites his tongue to stop from saying what pops into his mind. It’s mean, and he doesn’t want to lash out just because he’s upset about his own problems that don’t have anything to do with his friend. He knows it’s still hard for Damian to admit his flaws, so rubbing it in when he does isn’t what a good friend would do.

“So, I will say it simply. From what you have told me, I believe your childhood of fighting as a hero has traumatized you, and it is simply logical that you are unable to continue. I do not blame you at all for stepping down.”

Jon hugs himself. “Why, though? You’ve been in worse situations for longer than me, and you’ve done almost everything I have on top of it, _and_ you don’t even have powers. And- And I was fine until a little while ago! Why can’t I… be brave enough?”

Damian frowns. “I… am confused. I was under the impression that you are happy with your decision to retire. Do you want to be Superboy again?”

“No!” The way Jon yells is perhaps a bit too desperate, but he just reacts. “ _God_ , no! I just… I keep thinking about all the people that I _could_ be saving if I was, and I think about how sitting on my thumbs like I am is hurting those people, and then I think I’m a bad person because I didn’t help someone when I could have and it’s all just pointless suffering because I don’t even know how to not… hero. And I’m selfish because I _still_ don’t want to be a hero again, and I’m worthless because I don’t even know what I’m doing and that’s just ending up with me doing _nothing_ , and I’m-”

“Jon!” Jon flinches away from the voice, reacting to the stern authority it holds and shutting his mouth. “You are none of those things, Jon.” Damian says firmly. Jon just watches timidly as he sighs, crosses his arms, closes his eyes, and leans back in his chair. “Look.” Damian finally sighs. “You are one of the most brilliant people I have ever met. One of the few people I am truly honored to call a friend. It does not matter if you’re Superboy or not. That does not change your worth.”

Damian stands to approach Jon. All he does is put his hands on Jon’s shoulders, but that’s more than Jon expects. It settles some of the excitement in his gut. “No one reacts to trauma the same way. In my family, punching criminals is a coping mechanism, because we all have our own baggage we came into this life with. Your family isn’t mine, and you are not me. You retired, and you felt safe, so you began to process all the trauma you could not before then. That is why you panic, like you just did, when you contemplate coming back. That’s why you _can’t_ be Superboy, and thus cannot be called a coward for not doing so. Understand?”

Jon nods numbly. Damian makes sense. He usually does. When he doesn’t have his head up his own butt, but that’s been getting less and less common as they get older.

“You are a good person, Jon. Insufferably so, sometimes. No matter what else, don’t doubt that.”

“I…” Jon isn’t sure what to say. This is pretty much the exact opposite of what he expects from Damian. But… Lord. He wraps his arms tight around Damian. “Thank you.”

“Gah- Hey! Unhand me!”

Jon giggles, squeezes him just a _little_ tighter, and lets him go. “Thanks.” Jon says again. “I really needed to hear that.”

Damian tuts derisively. “Yes, well… you’re welcome. Are you feeling better?”

“A little.” Jon says honestly. “I still need to figure out what I’m going to do, but I’m… a little more confident that I’m doing the right thing.”

“Why did you not think so? Out of guilt?”

“Partly.” Jon rubs his arms awkwardly. “Partly because it still just… it’s all confusing. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m not just talking about my major. I don’t know basically anything. I’m trying to figure out where I want to take my life _while_ I’m trying to figure out how to just be human and I…” He sighs. “I don’t know.”

Damian hums. “You know, I went through a lot of grief reconciling being the son of batman as well as being an al Ghul.”

Jon frowns. “Yeah. And?”

“And when I first came here, I tried to do batman’s thing, in the only way I knew how. The way my mother taught me. Father had to teach me how to be a hero in his way, molded after him and my brothers in their time as Robin.”

“Is there… a lesson here?”

Damian sighs. “The _lesson_ is that you are not human, Jon. Whether you’re a hero or not, you are still half-Kryptonian. I was _trying_ to say that I could never be happy here so long as I kept fighting so hard to reject the fact that I am an al Ghul. Yes, I obviously had to reject the House of al Ghul, but to pretend I was never part of it would be to pretend my entire childhood is not what it was. I will never be ‘normal’ as most people consider it. You won’t either. Your father became Superman in part because he could not stand to hide among humans. You face the same problem, hero or no.”

Jon huffs. “Well, I can’t be a hero and I can’t be normal, so what the hell _am_ I?”

Damian rolls his eyes. “You’re Jon Kent. I don’t have the answers for you. I simply told you what I think.” He sighs. “I wish I could help, but I can’t tell you what to do with your life. We both know that would end disastrously.”

“Aha, yeah. That would be a mess.”

Jon spies a rare smile from Damian. “I do want the best for you. That is why I’m telling you this. Don’t hang your hopes on the common idea of normal. It necessarily excludes people like us. Find something you’re happy with and make _that_ your normal.”

Jon takes a moment to contemplate that. Realistically, he knows Damian is right. No one’s normal includes hiding superpowers and an alien heritage and a heroic past. The very idea that half-Kryptonian Jon can be normal is, at its very core, laughable.

Yet… there was a point in time that he _felt_ that way. When he felt like he could do it. Live an average life despite everything. That was… when he was close with Marinette. And Jon still isn’t sure how much of that was chemistry between them as friends, or just Marinette’s personality making him feel at home, or him just throwing all his hopes on her and needing it to work so badly that he tricked himself into _making_ it work, but… he definitely knows how he felt. So, it is possible. Yet, Jon feels like it wouldn’t have been had he lived with anyone but Marinette, so maybe it only was possible then because neither of them are actually normal in the first place. Maybe them finding normal is only because they aren’t.

And now Jon’s head is starting to hurt. Still, “I think you’re probably right.” He says to Damian. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

Damian nods shortly to acknowledge and dismiss him.

Before Jon leaves, though, he stops to look back at Damian. “You’ve really grown up, you know.”

Damian clicks his tongue. He’s already back on the computer, clacking away at the keys. “I’m twenty-three years old now. I should hope so.”

Jon snickers and turns away. _That’s fair. I guess we’re all growing up._

* * *

Jon can’t be a hero and he can’t be normal. He can be happy, though. He may have only brushed hands with it so far, but he can. When Jon heads out to sit in a tree just a few days before he needs to leave once more for college, Jon has hope. Hope for the future, for _a_ future in which he’s content and safe and, to an extent, normal.

The only problem is that he still can’t quite picture it. He still doesn’t know exactly how to get there, or even in which direction he should go. And he _still_ has no idea what he should major in. And that’s… kind of annoying.

_You have plenty of time,_ Jon thinks, sarcastically, _not like you’ve wasted your entire year_ not _figuring it out or anything._

_What do I even want to do? I always assumed I’d be a journalist. I’m not against it, but what if there’s something else I’d like more? What if I choose wrong? And even if I do become a journalist, should I study it in college, or should I pick something else like I planned from the start?_

_Will I stay sane in three years of psychology classes?_

_Yeah, no, probably not. I could take ethics and lecture dad. That’d be funny. Lot of work for a joke, though._

_Or I coul-_

“Jon? Is that you? You know, I didn’t take you for the brooding type.”

Jon just about falls out of his tree when he jumps and tries to spin around to see who found him here in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. “Aunt Kara!” He whines. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! How did you even know I was here?”

Supergirl snickers. “I can read your mind, remember? And you think _very_ loudly.”

Jon just crosses his arms, pouting. He knows his cheeks color at the reminder of how she used to tease him, which only makes him more embarrassed because he knows that’s the reaction she wants. “That’s not funny, Aunt Kara.”

Shrugging, she says, “I thought it was. Nah, your friend told me you’d be here. _Brooding_.”

_Goddamn it, Damian._ “How did he- no, wait, he’s Damian. Never mind.” Jon sighs. “Not that I’m not happy to see you… in the middle of the night… do Mom and Dad even know you’re here?”

“I don’t need their permission to see my nephew!”

“You’re on their property.”

“I’m _above_ their property.” Supergirl grins, gesturing to her feet, which are a good five feet off the ground.

Jon shakes his head. “Whatever. Why are you here?”

Supergirl laughs. “Aw, is that any way to talk to your favorite aunt?” Jon just rolls his eyes. After a moment, Supergirl sobers, her expression softens, and she asks, “Mind if I join you?”

Jon purses his lips and moves over a little, allowing Supergirl to sit next to him on the branch. They’re squished together, and Supergirl throws her arm around his shoulders, but Jon doesn’t honestly mind. She likes to tease him, but she _is_ his aunt. He loves her.

“So, want to tell me why you’re out here instead of sleeping?”

“Why?” Jon counters. “Damian’s already told you.”

She tilts her head in non-committal gesture. “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t care what he says. I want you to tell me. What’s up?”

Jon sighs. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know anything. That’s the problem. I’m starting second year – I really need to figure out what I’m going to study – and recently I’ve been doubting I even want to- er, never mind.”

Supergirl’s gaze pierces into him. As much as he loves her, and as fun of an aunt she can be, it’s always been obvious to Jon that she’s the most… alien of them. It makes sense, considering she actually remembers Krypton, but even so there are times when she can be downright unsettling. It makes him feel… vulnerable. Like she can see every facet of him. It’s doubly unsettling, he finds, when he can’t even see his own facets. “Everyone wonders what they’re going to do with their lives.” Supergirl says gently. “College isn’t the end of the road. A lot of people don’t find their calling until much later in their lives.”

Jon tugs at his hair. “Yeah, that’s a nice thought and all, but I still need to pick a major.”

Supergirl snorts. “Alright. Fair, then. You’ve got to make a choice. What do you want to do? Throw some ideas out, let’s spitball. It’s a longstanding family tradition to go into journalism. How do you feel about that?”

Jon flinches. “Lukewarm.”

Supergirl laughs again. “Alright. How about, uh photography?”

“I’ve got a pretty steady hand?” Jon shrugs.

“Hm. Analytics?”

“Hard yikes.”

“You’re a tough nut, aren’t you? Alright, how about… graphics design?”

“Do you actually not know any jobs except what goes into the news?”

Supergirl scoffs playfully. “Are you mocking me? My favorite nephew, being so mean to me when I’m only trying to help!” Jon has to spend a moment fighting off her playful shoving and trying his best to not fall out of the tree, but by the time she relents, he’s out of breath from laughing and his cheeks hurt.

And that’s why he loves Aunt Kara. She can always cheer him up. She’s always been strangely good at that. No matter what kind of mood he’s in, she always manages to bring him out of his shell. She makes him feel… not like himself, but like he can be himself. Like it’s safe to be anything he wants, and she won’t judge him.

Maybe it’s just because she can be a bit weird herself sometimes.

“Hey.” She leans in close to him, like she’s sharing a secret. “Want to get out of here?”

“And go where?”

“On a… field trip.” She says. “Come on.”

“I don’t know, Aunt Kara. We should probably tell Mom and Dad if we’re going somewhere.”

“Pssh, they won’t know we left! Besides, you’re with me! Nothing can happen to you while I’m here. Also, uh, you’re twenty now, Jon. You don’t need their permission to go out.”

“It’s not about permission. I’m still living with them.” Jon protests. “It’s just courtesy, so they don’t worry.”

Supergirl rolls her eyes. “We’ll write them a note. Come on.”

Jon sighs. “Alright. Where are we going, though?”

Supergirl winks conspiratorially. “You’ll see.”

They quickly write a note (even though Aunt Kara insists they’ll be back before his parents wake up – which Jon hopes is true, because he does want to sleep tonight) and take off, Supergirl in her cape and him in pajama pants and a flannel shirt. And he knows where they’re going. He figures it out when they don’t stop at any sensible place to do so. The Fortress of Solitude.

“Here we are!” Supergirl chirps. “This is a _much_ better place to brood!”

Jon’s laugh is almost helpless as he covers his face. He thought going into the batcave was weird after he retired. This? The Fortress? It’s too much.

Jon knows the Fortress of Solitude. He’s used it as a base when he was Superboy just like Aunt Kara and his dad does. When he peeks around at the alien architecture and almost magical technology, all Jon can think about is the damn “S.” It doesn’t help that it’s plastered all over the place, either.

When he walks into the Fortress of Solitude, Jon looks up at the statues of his grandparents, flinches at the burn of that “S” on their chests being branded into his skull, and feels like a failure.

When he sits in a tree and watches the stars on the horizon, he feels small in a cosmic sense. It puts him into perspective on a grand scale, and things are a little easier to think about because ultimately it doesn’t weigh all that much. When he looks up at the statue of the grandparents he’ll never know, he’s also put into perspective, just not as a speck in the infinite vastness of the universe.

No, under their eyes, he’s, in essence, the heir of Krypton.

An entire world destroyed. Two survivors. One goes on to have a son. And then that son does everything he can to be as human as possible. How must he devastate these people? This _world_ whose culture and traditions will probably die with Aunt Kara?

A part of Jon wants to carry that burden, too. To carry on Krypton and live for them. But Jon has lived his life for other people up until this point and because of that, now he’s lost. He can’t carry a world on his shoulders. He hates that that means that his aunt has to do so for him, but he can’t. He’s not that strong.

Being in the Fortress is too much for him. Already he feels like it’s crushing him. How can he carry such a weight? How can he carry Krypton, when he doesn’t know anything about it? He’s never been there, never experienced it. He doesn’t even have a Kryptonian name! Being human is already complicated enough. Jon can’t be Kryptonian on top of that.

He’s starting to think he knows how Atlas feels.

“Are you okay, Jon?”

Jon shakes his head. His throat is tight and clogged and he can’t seem to clear it. It takes him some time to manage to ask, “Why’d you bring me here?”

“Because I know what you’re afraid of.” Supergirl says plainly. “Kal and I both went through the same thing. Listen, Jon.” She takes his hands in hers, and he lifts his eyes to meet hers. “You are at a point in your life where you’re trying to decide your whole future. What you’ll take with you, what you’ll leave behind, what path you want to follow.

“Damian told me that he’s worried you’re rejecting part of yourself. The Kryptonian part. He said that you want to be completely human.”

Jon turns his gaze back to the ground. “That’s… partly true. I just want to live like an ordinary person. I don’t want any of…” He sighs. “ _this_.”

“I know.”

“I- you do?” Jon furrows his brow. If he’s honest, he expects Aunt Kara to be angry with him. Krypton is very important to her, so to admit that he’s trying to distance himself from it even so long after it’s death must hurt.

“Of course, I do, kiddo. I live on Earth, too. Earth is my home, too. I know what it’s like to want to fit in.”

Yeah. Jon supposes she would.

“And I want to help you.” Supergirl says, firmer. “You’re having trouble making a decision, right? So, you’re going to make one. Here. That’s the real reason I brought you here. Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Supergirl guides him by the hand into another room. She opens a box, almost reverently, and pulls out a large flag. There’s a planet in the middle, blue and green like Earth, but the land masses are different (Jon at least knows enough to recognize it as Krypton) with rays of color filling the rest of the flag. It’s Krypton, in a rainbow halo, sort of. “Do you know what this is?” Supergirl asks.

Jon does. “The Kryptonian flag.”

Supergirl gives him a smile. “Do you know what it represents?”

“Krypton?” Jon purses his lips.

She chuckles. “Essentially, yes. The design of the flag was chosen to represent the _Girod_.”

“The eleven virtues.” Jon says.

“Exactly! Do you remember what they are?”

Jon again averts his gaze.

“It’s alright, Jon.”

“I’m sorry. I feel like I should know more about Krypton.”

“Do you want to?” Supergirl asks the question so casually that Jon is a little thrown off. “Because that’s the decision I want you to make tonight.” Her tone gets more serious again, making Jon wince. “The _Girod_ is the foundation of Kryptonian society. This,” she indicates the flag, “is what it means to be Kryptonian.

“Diversity coming from unity. In the center, that’s Unity. The three green rays are the core virtues. From lightest to darkest in color, Truth, Industriousness, and Justice. Peace, Synergy, Imagination, Purity, Restraint, Hope, Altruism.”

Jon’s cheeks warm, because he feels like a little kid all over again with Aunt Kara explaining the _Girod_ to him. His knowledge of Krypton is limited, and indeed this very subject is one he’s been taught and forgotten, but he knows this is quite literally one of the first things Kryptonian kids would learn. It’s the core of their whole society.

“Damian is worried that if you turn your back on Krypton, you won’t ever be happy, but he doesn’t know what it’s like to have millions of years of culture, technology, family, meaning… whole civilizations wiped out. We’re all that remains of Krypton. I can’t change your DNA. You can’t be totally human. But, I can tell you this: Krypton is not your burden to carry. It’s dead.” Supergirl closes her eyes, and Jon has a sinking feeling she’s trying not to cry. After a moment, she pats the flag gently. “If you don’t want this, we’re not going to make you take it. Okay? If you want to live your life like a human, then that’s okay. I will never try to force you to carry on Krypton’s legacy.”

Jon stares at the flag in Supergirl’s lap. Eleven virtues, each one more impossible to achieve than the last. _Did Krypton really achieve this, or is this just an ideal? Because…_ “That’s a lot to live up to.”

“I know. It’s not easy, and you won’t be perfect, but whatever you choose, whether you want to be human or if you want to be Kryptonian, or both, I’m proud of you. You’ve grown up into such a brave young man, and I can honestly say that you are one of the best people I know. By both human and Kryptonian standards.”

“A-Aunt Kara, I…”

“I know this doesn’t help you decide what career you want to go into or what you want to study,” Supergirl says, lowering her head to look at the flag, “but I felt it was important for you to know. You are _not_ responsible for Krypton. Kal and I are not going to stop you from living however you want. You know Krypton is very important to me, but you know what’s more important?”

“…What?” Jon has a sneaking suspicion he knows exactly what.

“You. I still honor where I came from, and I do my best to keep our culture and traditions alive, but Krypton is dead. It’s our heritage, and it’s important to me, but it’s not a big deal if it isn’t to you. I promise. You’ve never even seen it. I wouldn’t blame you if you can’t connect to it. Human culture is much more… relevant. Even for me.” She watches him with that piercing, alien gaze again. “Right now, you’re deciding where you want your life to go. I want to tell you that if you don’t want it to include Krypton, it doesn’t have to. You’re not obligated to try to preserve it. And neither Kal nor I will judge you for it.”

Jon chuckles nervously. “You sure about Dad?”

Supergirl giggles. “I promise. We all just want you to be happy. You’re far more important than a dead culture.”

“I… I…” Jon chokes down his emotions again, and just goes for a hug instead of trying to explain. “Thank you.”

Supergirl’s hug is crushing, as always. It’s familiar, completely inhuman, and remarkably comforting. When she does let him go, though, she asks, “So, what’s your decision?”

“My decision…” Jon’s throat goes dry. “About whether I’m Kryptonian or not?” Supergirl inclines her head. Jon sighs. He looks again to the flag in her lap. “Diversity from unity. It sounds like a… beautiful ideal.”

“It was beautiful.” Supergirl says softly.

Jon closes his eyes. This is his get out of jail free card. All the pressure of his Kryptonian heritage shed just like that. With one decision. No judgement, no punishment. And somewhere inside him, Jon really does resent the Kryptonian part of him. It’s what makes him different. It’s what means he’ll never be normal. It’s what gives him the ability that curses his fear and unwillingness, and brands him evil by neglect.

But him being Kryptonian _can’t_ change. Damian’s right. Rejecting Krypton won’t make him any more human. His DNA is beyond anyone’s ability to simply rewrite. Embracing it, though? Carrying the weight of Krypton’s culture, of its people, like Atlas holding the heavens? How is that better?

_“Diversity from unity.”_ Jon thinks. Maybe that’s how. It’s Marinette. It’s being together, finding their normal, not because they’re regular people through and through, but _because_ of their differences. It’s what makes them unique that makes them belong, not what makes them the same.

Jon isn’t entirely sure he buys that, but it’s… such a beautiful ideal. He hopes for it. If nothing else, it’s a direction. Something to strive for. “Can I…” He says, hesitantly, as his answer, “keep that?”

Supergirl’s eyes follow his finger, and her lips twitch upwards into a smile. “Of course,” She says. Carefully, she folds up the Kryptonian flag and hands it off to him.

It’s heavier than he expects. Sort of like the cape. He doubts himself, but he wants to dream. He wants to believe the _Girod_ is more than just an ideal.

“You know, Kal never gave you a Kryptonian name, did he?” Supergirl says suddenly, startling Jon.

“O-oh, uh, no. I’m just… just Jon.”

“Jon.” Supergirl hums as she leads the way back to the main room of the Fortress. “How about Kon-El? That suits you, don’t you think?”

Jon blinks. “ _Kon_ -El? Where’d the K come from?”

“Kara! Duh!” Supergirl winks at him.

She always can make Jon laugh. “And that’s… a traditional Kryptonian way to name a kid, huh?” He teases.

“Pfft, no, that’s just because I’m awesome.” They laugh together until they come upon the statue of Jon’s grandparents and he gets lost staring at them again. He’s not sure if he can live up to their ideals. In truth, he’s not even sure how much he can do to try. “Or I could name you after your granddad, like Kal did. Jor-El. You’re still a J that way.”

Jon manages a smile for the frozen images of his grandparents. “I don’t know.”

“He’d be proud of you, you know. They both would. I know you never met them, but… they’d be proud.”

“Yeah.” Jon takes a deep breath and tears his eyes from the statues once more. “Thanks, Aunt Kara.”


	7. I try to reach out to the light through the glass as it shatters.

Marinette is nervous to see Jon again. She probably shouldn’t be. They don’t part on a bad note, and as they promise, they text each other throughout the break, so she knows they’re good, she just… is nervous.

The summer is a good time to distract herself and process everything that happened. Process knowing that Jon is Superboy. Or, was. He’s not anymore. Marinette still has to remind herself of that, despite it all. And the reason she has to remind herself is because it just makes too much sense.

Jon is a man who takes what he’s doing seriously. Even when he laughs and jokes around, he practices a kind of restraint that Marinette doesn’t see in many people. A sort of temperance that implies he’s always aware of exactly what he’s doing. The way he makes moves around her so that he never crowds her even in the tightest of quarters, how careful he is with the most simple of actions, like holding a pencil, the way he always seems to be there when she has a problem, but never forces the issue. Moments like the day she returned from break and he cheered her up after her breakup with Adrien. He’s almost hyperaware of boundaries and stays as far as he can from breaking anything while still doing everything possible to help.

Marinette thought he was just like that, but now that she knows he was Superboy, she thinks that’s probably something that is trained into him. That doesn’t make him any less sweet and thoughtful, of course, but if she’s totally honest his powers unnerve her. Even in her time as Ladybug, Marinette never had the pleasure of meeting any of the Kryptonian heroes, but she knows of them. Alya adores them. Marinette doesn’t know what to think of them.

Some people – _most_ people – uphold Superman as an ideal. He’s a model of the idea that power doesn’t have to corrupt. He is someone with the power to do almost anything he wants, a veritable god on Earth, yet he doesn’t. He restrains himself, constantly and consistently puts the needs of others above his own, and is relentlessly mindful of the repercussions of his actions. He’s a reminder to do good, but also that one must remain vigilant in doing so.

To a certain degree, Marinette also tries to uphold this ideal. When she accepted her role as a hero back then, she did everything she could to make Ladybug stand for the same thing.

In a word, Superman as a hero can be described as careful. All of the Super family can. Jon is no exception, even in his daily life. So, in that sense, it doesn’t surprise her.

That said, truth be told, that kind of power makes Marinette uncomfortable. She doesn’t have great experience with adults in positions of authority restraining themselves and consistently doing the right thing, to say the least. She doesn’t trust that kind of power, because she believes that power does corrupt.

Power turns little girls into bullies. Power is what desperate people lie and cheat and kill for. Power is what turns a heartbroken widower into a deranged psychopath, or a devoted love into heartless manipulation. It’s a hero’s job to wield power for good, but how many terrible things have been done by heroes? Perhaps it’s cynical of her, but while she believes in people’s inherent goodness, she does _not_ believe in the goodness of power. The hero’s job is so difficult precisely because they’re using their power against its own nature.

And thus, she’s ideologically at odds with Superman. Maybe he can do it. Maybe he can refuse temptation. Maybe he’s really just _that_ good that his restraint and integrity can survive the absolutely absurd amount of power he possesses. Maybe Supergirl is the same way, too. But someday, if they keep having kids, if Jon’s kids inherit the powers, and their kids inherit it, and on, and on, Marinette doesn’t think it’ll be long before one of them does mess up.

And yet… now that she knows Jon, now that she knows what kind of person he is, she’s not so worried. Because Jon isn’t a person who practices _restraint_. He’s not a person who is always keeping an eye on himself, checking himself because no one around him is strong enough to do it for him. Jon is just a guy who has so much of that inherent goodness Marinette believes in that he doesn’t need that kind of restraint. Marinette is surprised that she trusts him. And that makes her doubt his family a little less, too. They raised him, after all, so they can’t be that bad.

“What’s that?” Marinette asks. Jon is finally at the apartment and is unpacking when she spies a colorful bolt of cloth in an open one.

Jon looks over and chuckles awkwardly. “That’s, uh… that’s the… flag. Of Krypton.”

“Huh. I didn’t know you had a flag.”

Jon takes it out of the box to spread out on the coffee table so she can see it. It’s a little dull and faded. Marinette imagines it’s old. When she pictures the flag in its proper form, she thinks it’s bright and vibrant. The planet in the middle with seemingly random-colored rays bursting out from it. “Yeah, it’s the, like, Planetary Federation of Krypton’s flag. There were other people on Krypton, but this is, you know, _my_ folks’ flag.”

“…Neat.”

Marinette spies Jon frowning at her. “You’re not… upset?”

She blinks. “Upset for what?”

“Because it’s… weird alien stuff?”

“Pfft, oh, no, Jon.” She sighs. “I don’t want anything to do with heroes, but your heritage is not a hero thing. I don’t mind you bringing Kryptonian things in here. I mean, I make you take off your shoes. That’s not an American thing.”

Jon lets out a tense breath. “Oh, good. Hah. I was kind of nervous about that.”

Marinette laughs. She can see why he is, honestly, especially after last semester. “So, why do you have this? Did you just not take it last year because I didn’t know yet or what? And, uh…” She takes another long, cautious look at the flag, “what do you plan on doing with it?”

Jon eyes the flag with her. “Nah, I got it this summer. My Aunt Kara gave it to me. She was actually on Krypton before it blew up, so she’s the only one who actually remembers what it was like there.” He looks over at her and smirks. “And don’t worry, I’m not hanging it up. That would be hard to explain to visitors. Besides, it’s kind of ugly, isn’t it?”

“Oh, thank god!” Marinette sighs dramatically. “I didn’t want to be rude, so I didn’t want to say anything, but you said it first! It’s pretty ugly.”

Jon laughs. “I know. But it’s symbolic.”

“They couldn’t have picked a prettier symbol? This is like a Teletubby vomited on fabric.”

“Pfft hahaha! Marinette! Wow!”

Marinette blushes. “I’m sorry, was that too far? I just-”

Jon continues cackling as he valiantly tries to force comprehensible words out. “Don’t worry about it! It _is_ ugly.”

Marinette shifts uncomfortably. True as her statement is, and even though she is only emboldened enough to say it because Jon clearly takes no offense, she still feels guilty throwing shade at the flag of a near-extinct culture. That seems disrespectful. “So… what does it mean?”

Jon calms down his giggling to explain. “Right, so I’m not really an expert on Krypton, so I’m probably not the best person to ask, but each part of the flag represents one of the eleven virtues. They’re usually referred to altogether as the _Girod_.”

“ _Girod_.” Marinette tests the alien word on her tongue. It’s a little strange to her, not because of pronunciation or the word itself, but because of the knowledge that the word she’s saying quite literally comes from an alien race.

“The _Girod_ is basically the foundation of Kryptonian society. When Aunt Kara gave me this, she told me this,” he gestures to the flag, “is what it means to be Kryptonian. She and dad try their best to live up to the _Girod_ , and I…” He sighs, melancholier than Marinette expects. “I’m not sure yet. I mean, in theory, I’ve been raised with the same principles. We just didn’t call it the _Girod_ or acknowledge it as, you know, the foundation of Kryptonian society. But… I’m not really sure I believe it’s even possible.”

Marinette purses her lips, examining Jon carefully. He’s pensive, all furrowed brow and distant eyes lost in the oceans of the planet on the flag. “What are the virtues? You said there’s eleven of them?”

Jon shakes himself out of his thoughts to answer. “Right, uh… The center, that’s Krypton, represents Unity. Then there’s… Truth, Industriousness, and Justice. Those are the core virtues, and are the three green lines here. Then there’s… Peace, Purity, Restraint… how many was that? Hold on.” He frowns, grumbling as he counts on his fingers. “Unity, three core ones – that’s four. Peace, Purity, Restraint… seven. What else? Imagination, that’s one. Can’t forget Hope – you know, my family’s crest also stands for Hope? Apparently the ‘S’ for Superman is just convenient.”

Marinette giggles. “I think Alya might have mentioned that.”

Jon nods. “Anyway, that’s… where were we? Augh, sorry, just a second.” He picks his phone up off the table and navigates through it.

“It’s fine if you don’t remember, Jon.”

“No, no, I need to remember this. I’m trying to learn it. Okay, here it is. I got the first few right. Unity, Truth, Industriousness, Justice. Then, oh! That’s what I was forgetting. Synergy.”

“Synergy?” Marinette makes a face. “Isn’t that the same as Unity?”

“Eh… sort of. Unity is more like… belonging. It’s… family, sort of. Like, we’re all part of the same group. Synergy is working together; more of a ‘greater than the sum of its parts’ kind of thing.”

“Oh, okay, that makes sense.”

“And the rest of the virtues are Imagination, Purity, Restraint, Hope, and Altruism… wait, was that eleven? Oh! Peace. I said that the first time but skipped when I was reading the notes.”

“Calm down, Jon. You won’t remember it right away.” She pats his back gently. “I think it’s really cool that you’re trying, though.

Jon ducks his head. “Thanks. I- I’m not really… I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He gets that far-off look as he examines the flag once more. “Krypton is just as alien to me as it is to you, but… somehow it’s my heritage. Honestly, it’s kind of weird. And the _Girod_ … Do you see what I mean? When I say I’m not sure I really believe it’s possible to live up to that?”

Marinette sighs. The way Jon hold himself, how unsure he is, how frightened he is, it’s unsettling to her. For a lot of reasons. “You know, to me, it sounds like you do a pretty good job already.”

“You think?” Jon doesn’t smile. That draws Marinette’s lips downwards, too.

“Yeah.” She says. “Can I see the list?” He hands over his phone so she can read off it. On the note is just a simple list of the virtues with a color next to them – the color on the flag that symbolizes that virtue. “Restraint. I think your whole family has that in spades just to live normally.”

Jon chuckles uncomfortably. “Something tells me that’s not what that originally meant.”

Marinette shrugs. “Altruism. You’re one of the most selfless people I know. Remember when I was really frazzled last year just before our first tests?”

That does manage to pull a smile out of him. “I had to take you out fabric shopping just so you’d obsess over something else. Then I ended up being your pack horse.”

“And that whole time, you had tests to study for, too.” Marinette points out. “That’s just one of a hundred different things you’ve done for me in just a semester, not even counting everyone else you help all the time. Then there’s peace. I think you do that better than your dad.”

Jon jumps a little. “You do?”

“Duh. Even in the name of peace, violence is still violence. I don’t think any of those types of heroes can truly say they stand for peace.”

“Even if it’s to protect people who can’t protect themselves?”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t fighting. Even if it’s a good fight, even if it’s the only choice, it’s still not peace. Don’t you think?”

Jon is quiet for a long time. “…Yeah, I think I agree.”

Marinette smiles and hands him his phone back. “But, hey, I’m human. Maybe my interpretation of these virtues isn’t even close to how Kryptonians saw them.”

Jon frowns for a little longer, and then asks, “Does it matter? Maybe humans have some pretty good insight. I think you do, at least.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. I try my best.”

Jon giggles. “You know, I’ve talked to Aunt Kara about what each of the virtues mean, but… now I’m thinking I want your perspective, too. I’m not, like, devoting my life to the _Girod_ or anything, but… I think it’s a beautiful ideal. Don’t you? It might be worth thinking about, as I figure out what kind of person I want to be now that I’m not a hero.”

“Sure.” Marinette says. “I’m always happy to help. And, now that I’m thinking about it, if you want sage advice on virtues, you might find talking to Tikki interesting.”

Jon raises his brow at her. “Tikki?”

“She’s a kwami. I never told you how I became Ladybug, did I?” Jon shakes his head. Marinette chuckles. “Well, I’ll start at the beginning.”

* * *

Marinette doesn’t introduce Jon to Tikki right away. They both still have unpacking to do and a semester to prepare for, after all, but they do eventually find time for Marinette to dig out the earrings and summon her.

Tikki’s big, sad eyes cut deep into Marinette. She knows Tikki doesn’t like that Marinette doesn’t wear the earrings regularly, or that Marinette is leaving the Miracle Box in Paris. She begrudgingly gives her blessing, but she’s definitely not happy about it.

Marinette often misses Tikki, but the earrings feel so heavy in her ears. It’s hard to bring herself to wear them. It’s been over a year now since she stopped doing so regularly. Despite everything else, Marinette likes being just a normal girl. The leaden studs in her ears and Tikki’s constant presence is only a reminder that she isn’t and never will be. A painful one.

“Tikki, meet Jon.”

“Hi, Jon!” Tikki chirps, appearing happy. “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

Jon hesitates a little when he sees her, and Marinette can tell his smile is a tad strained. “You too, Tikki.”

“Marinette told me about you.” Tikki says. “Thank you for being here for her. I know times are hard for the both of you, but I know you can get through it together if you stick by each other.”

Again, Jon hesitates. There’s an odd look in his eyes as he says, “Yeah. I’m lucky to have her.” The look is almost… wary.

The conversation continues for a while, and Jon eventually explains the _Girod_ and asks for Tikki’s opinion on it and as Tikki talks, Jon starts shifting around and staring at his own lap and worrying his lip. “I’m curious about the Kryptonian stance on when those virtues come into conflict.” Tikki says. “If, for instance, you must sacrifice Peace for the sake of Justice, what should you do?”

“Don’t.” Jon says. “If you sacrifice peace for justice, it’s not justice to start with. It’s revenge, or pettiness, or… something like that.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I’d like to think so, anyway. Honestly… I don’t know enough about Krypton to say what they thought.”

Tikki hums thoughtfully. “But if there is a villain that is hurting people, there may be no way to bring him to justice except to fight.”

Jon slouches further, shrinking in his chair. “Is it worth it? To sacrifice peace?”

“If it saves the lives of innocents.”

“If it makes you guilty?”

“It’s for a good cause. You’re not guilty.”

“I think you are.” Jon says. “I don’t think there’s any good reason to sacrifice peace.” He sighs. “That’s… one of the virtues I’ve been considering the most. In human history, who are the most renowned champions for change? Who do we consider to have made the most difference for the better?”

Tikki’s eyes flash with something akin to recognition. “I think of Jeanne d’Arc. Joan of Arc, I think you call her.”

“I think of Martin Luther King Jr. Ghandi.” Jon says. “Those people changed the world with a principle of nonviolence. That proves it can be done.”

“In some situations. Most situations, I agree. But there are times when there’s no choice but to fight.”

Marinette shifts under Tikki’s gaze, as does Jon, but Jon, for now, at least, doesn’t back down. No matter how doubtful the expression on his face appears. “And we can drop our principles just like that? What value do principles have if we can ignore them whenever they don’t help us?”

“They still guide you. They give you something to fight for. They’re what you win for.”

Jon takes a deep breath. “I can’t accept that. Fighting in the name of peace is stupid. And it makes you a hypocrite. Fighting is fighting. Simple as that.”

“So in the name of peace, you would stand by and let a tyrant harm innocents?” Tikki frowns, and looks between Jon and Marinette for a moment. “I know you both have decided to give up on being heroes. But heroes are still important. Everyone has a responsibility to do what they can for the people around them. That includes fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves. And if the villain doesn’t give you any other choice, it may even include going to battle for them. I don’t think peace means nonviolence. I think it means balance. And the ever-shifting balance is a constant battle to maintain.”

“You expect us to sacrifice ourselves and our ideals for people who don’t even see us as people?” Jon mutters. “Just because we _can_?”

“The virtue of altruism.” Tikki says.

Jon takes another deep breath. “You expect too much of us.”

“I don’t think so. I think you’re more than capable. You’re both wonderful heroes. And it’s true that it’s hard. Sometimes, you need to take a break, and that’s okay. You have to take care of yourselves, too, or you won’t be able to save anyone. But people do rely on you. Just think about it.”

Jon huffs quietly. “Like I ever stop.” Marinette flinches at his words because she can relate. Even a year out, it’s hard to ignore how many people she might be helping. The more time passes, the more people go unaided because she made the choice to abandon her duties. And she feels guilty.

She doesn’t regret leaving, though. Yet that only makes her feel guiltier.

Marinette takes the earrings off eventually, tucking them back into a hidden corner, and she and Jon are in silence for a while. “I don’t think I really like Tikki that much.” Jon says.

Marinette grimaces. “No?”

“She kind of reminds me of Dad when he gets on my case about superhero responsibilities. He doesn’t do that anymore, since he’s accepted that I’m retired, but… I don’t really appreciate the lecture. No offense.”

“I understand.” Marinette says honestly. “Frankly, that’s part of the reason why I don’t have her out much. Part of it is just that wearing the earrings, having her around all the time, it reminds me of… everything. But another part is that she…” Marinette sighs. “I’m the guardian of the Miracle Box. It’s my duty to take care of _all_ the kwami, not just her. And I’ve left the box with Chat Noir. I… don’t really want it back.”

Jon makes a face. “Yeah. Understandable.”

“To you.” Marinette laughs bitterly. “I think you’re the only one who actually understands. Everyone else is either waiting for me to come back or is supporting me despite not understanding.”

Jon chuckles as well, mirroring her. “I know that feeling. At least they are being supportive, right?”

“Yeah. They’re good friends.”

“The best.” Jon bites his lip and smiles. “Do you think you can just make Chat Noir the guardian?”

“I’ve thought about it.” Marinette sighs. “I told you what happened to the old guardian.”

Jon recoils. “Right. I remember now. You’d forget.”

“I’m tempted to do it.” Marinette says. “I can. Anytime I want. I just have to do it. Sometimes I think forgetting will be a good thing. If I do, I can finally just live a normal life and none of these responsibilities will be mine to worry about. I won’t even know they exist.”

Jon’s face is still contorted into a hurt, concerned grimace. “If you did… would you forget me? This?”

Marinette sighs. “I’m not sure. If we were just two university students rooming together, I’d say maybe not, but… I know you were Superboy, and you know about Ladybug, so… maybe it’s too intertwined with the Miraculous. It’s hard to tell. I’d for sure forget a lot of my friends back home. Honestly, it kind of scares me how tempting the offer of forgetting is despite all that. That’s part of what made me realize I needed to quit being Ladybug in the first place.” She chuckles. “It’s a bit of a red flag, isn’t it?”

“Hah, wow, yeah. I’d say so.”

Marinette breathes slowly. “Anyway. I know Tikki lectured us both a bit, but did you at least get anything out of it? For the… _Girod_?”

Jon smiles. “Yeah. I think I did. It was… interesting. Thanks for letting me talk to her.”

“No problem.” Marinette says. “I really should let her out more often, anyway.”

* * *

The first semester of their second year isn’t anything special, really. Marinette likes most of her classes, though there is, of course, the one that’s just a chore to get through. Jon is stressing over what his major is going to be, so she brainstorms with him sometimes, or just distracts him if he gets too deep into his own head.

By and large, they’re back to how they were before. Things are still a little tense sometimes, and in rare moments Superboy is all Marinette can see when she looks at him and her chest hurts a little, but she makes an effort, as does he, to spend time together. When they eat together at least once almost every day, study together (even if it’s just silently in the same room because of their different subjects), go out together in their free time, and just exist in such close proximity every day, it’s hard not to get used to each other.

And they’re friends. They’re close friends. Marinette is still small, cold, and trembling. The memory of hurt still frays her. But she’s slowly rising up. Things feel okay again, and Marinette thinks that if they can just keep this up, they’ll figure the rest out and they’ll be just fine.

And of course, she _has_ to jinx it.

The phone call comes in at a surprisingly reasonable hour. Marinette is just sitting at her desk, scribbling away at an assignment when her phone starts buzzing. Marinette picks it up and feels her heart jump to her throat when she sees the name on the screen. Adrien.

It’s not that they don’t talk. They do. They’re still friends, and Adrien is still essentially acting as guardian in her stead, so they have to communicate to some degree. Even so, every time he calls and Marinette sees his name she gets dunked into an icy wave of guilt and regrets.

It’s not long until they’ve been single for a year now. And they’re both still trying to be strong. The worst of the pain has passed, but confronting him directly, even about unrelated topics, brings it back.

“Hello? What’s up?”

“Mari! Mari, I’m so sorry! I’m so, so, so, so, sorry! I don’t know how they got in! I swear, I keep it under lock and key; there’s no way they should have know-”

“Adrien, slow down.” Marinette says sharply. In person, and when they were together, this tone would always cut through his panic. Ground him, so that he can focus better. “What happened?”

“I went on patrol like I do every night.” He says. “But when I got back, the Miracle Box was gone. I don’t… I don’t even know who might have taken it! No one knows my identity; it wasn’t just a burglar – they left everything else. My lady, I don’t- I don’t know what to do here.”

_Someone’s stolen the Miracle Box?_ Marinette feels a familiar cold weight inside of her. “What do you have to work with?”

“Myself, Queenie, and Viperion.” Adrien murmurs. “That’s it. And… and you.”

Marinette lets out a soft breath. This is… horrible news, but there is a bright side. “At least you have Viperion. That’s the most dangerous.” Marinette’s stomach turns. She wants to vomit, but instead she just curls forward over her desk and closes her eyes.

Part of her wants to ask why Chloé and Luka have Miraculous, but Adrien is the acting guardian, and she trusts his judgement. Whatever reason he has to give them the Miraculous again is none of her business. “Yeah, but…” Adrien says. “I’m scared. I let you down, and now who knows where the Miraculous are? What if we get another Hawk Moth?”

“Then you’ll stop them.” Marinette says. She tries her best to sound confident. “And you won’t have to wonder who broke in.”

“Who could it be?” Adrien’s voice is tight and desperate. “They had to know who I am and that I’d be out!”

“You have a regular schedule, Adrien, it’s not hard to predict when you’re patrolling.” Marinette says. “But you’re right, they probably know your identity. That narrows down the options.”

“But no one who knows would do this. I won’t believe one of our friends took the box.”

“You’re forgetting someone.” Marinette says. “She found out your identity the same time your father did.”

“…Nathalie.” Adrien’s voice flattens out and turns dark. “Why now?”

“Because you weren’t expecting it. She never would have pulled it off right after Gabriel was arrested.”

Adrien takes a long breath. “At least we have an idea of what we’re dealing with. Thank you, my lady. I’m sorry I let you down.”

Marinette still feels sick, but she has the advantage of being an ocean away. Adrien might still be able to tell how she truly feels, but she thinks she controls her voice pretty well. “You haven’t. No one could have predicted she’d strike now.”

He hums softly. “I’m going to find her. I’ll find her and get the Miraculous back. I promise.”

“Adrien…” Marinette sighs. “I’m not the one you need to make that promise to. That’s not my life anymore.”

“Right.” He sounds a little choked, but he recovers quickly. “I need to call the team. I’ll keep you updated. See you soon, Marinette.”

He hangs up, and Marinette bitterly hopes he doesn’t keep her updated. Calming down Adrien and thinking about who might have stolen the Miracle Box all makes Marinette feel like Ladybug again. It’s… nauseating. She feels guilty in equal parts for acting like she’s still a part of Adrien’s team and for feeling so awful about it.

_I wonder if I should tell Jon about this._ That idea, too, makes her feel guilty. Because she feels like a hero again when she’s on the phone with Adrien, and no matter how much she hates that feeling, the real guilt is in her hypocrisy. Will Jon agree that she didn’t really do anything? Or is it still too much. He wants to put the hero life behind him, too, and Marinette won’t allow her problems to drag him even tangentially back into it. That’s unfair to everyone.

Marinette won’t bother him with this. She can’t.

* * *

The days crawl by. Adrien texts her updates on the situation every now and then, but there’s not much to speak of. A week passes, then another, and then the thing Marinette fears most happens.

Mayura attacks. Marinette is an ocean away, living a different life, but suddenly she’s a fourteen-year-old girl again fighting battles much too big for her. She watches on her phone as Chat Noir and his team defeat the sentimonster, but their victory only hurts. The weight of it all crushes Marinette beneath it like she’s nothing more than an insect. It’s too familiar, too much the same as it was back then. Like she’s accomplished nothing. She did nothing as Ladybug, and she’s doing nothing now. Everything she’s ever done has resulted in failure.

So how can she hope for any different on her search for a normal life? Every time she thinks it’s within reach it’s violently pulled away from her like a rug under her feet. First, she finds out that the person she associates with her normal was a hero, then just as she’s recovering from that, all her accomplishments as a hero are essentially erased.

All because she abandoned her duty. The only reason Nathalie is able to steal the Miracle Box is because it is left in Paris with Adrien. If Marinette hadn’t abandoned her duties, hadn’t turned her back on her role as guardian, then they wouldn’t be in this mess. It’s her fault, and now she’s an ocean away while the people she loves fight to fix it.

Marinette doesn’t want to be a hero again. She hates Ladybug. She hates being the only thing between the world and destruction. The only thing between a villain and tragedy. She’s not Superman, or even Chat Noir. She doesn’t have that kind of strength.

She’s too selfish, and too weak.

But Adrien asks her to.

It’s during the break, not long after she gets back to Paris. Adrien begs her to fight with him again. “I can’t do this without you, my lady.” He pleads. “I need you.”

“I’m not a hero anymore, Adrien.” Marinette says. “I brought the earrings. You can find another Ladybug. That’ll minimize the damage. You can do it.”

“I can’t. We’re fighting _Nathalie_. You were always my rock, Marinette. You’re the only reason I could fight my father. I need _you_. Not any Ladybug, _you_.”

Marinette grits her teeth. “I’ve been trying for over a year now to live a normal life.” Marinette says quietly. “You’re asking me to give that up.”

“I know.” He covers his face. He doesn’t want her to see that he’s crying, but he can’t hide it from her. He can’t hide anything from her. “I’m sorry. But I don’t have any other choice.”

“You’re the hero, Adrien. Not me. This? Right here? This is _exactly_ why I quit. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

And she means it. She means it with every fiber of her being. But when Mayura gets the upper hand, when Viperion is taken out in almost the first strike, when Queen Bee is battered and unmoving a mile away, Tikki is pleading, and Chat Noir has that _look_ in his eyes that Marinette is too familiar with, there’s no other choice.

She throws a blanket over her mirror, ducks beneath her shame, and shakily says, “Tikki, transform me.”


	8. Tonight I swear I'd sell my soul to be a hero for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it doesn't overlap a shared scene, it's not so obvious here as it was in ch. 5, but this chapter also starts sometime during the last chapter, and catches up and continues timeline-wise from the other perspective. Just thought I'd make the note for clarity.

“Marinette?” Jon calls blindly into the apartment as he examines the note in his hands.

“What?” Marinette appears from the hallway. “What’s up?”

“Can you, like, convert this for me?”

Marinette furrows her brow. When Jon hands her the paper and she catches sight of what’s on it, she sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know American measurements. Just use what it says, you baby.” She says. Jon takes a step forward when she taps his shoulder so that she can squeeze past him and approach one of the cabinets. From which she pulls out a scale. _Oh. I didn’t know we had that._ Right behind the scale is some spoons from a drawer. “The butter is measured on the packaging. These measure mililiters. Everything else, use this like a normal person.”

“The butter is measured by tablespoons, not- oh, wait, no, I see it now.” Jon frowns at the stick of butter in his hands. “This is so much math.”

Marinette snorts and rolls her eyes again. “Americans. What are you making a cake for, anyway?”

“You remember Tamias?”

“From your speech class?”

“Yeah! His birthday’s coming up. David is freaking out over it, so we’re all pitching in to throw him a party.”

“David?”

“Hernandez? We worked together on a few projects. _Massive_ crush on Tamias. Like, he’s _adorable_.”

“Oh, the one that got us into that debate about Harry Potter for like three hours.”

Jon snickers. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Jon can feel Marinette’s eyes on him as he gathers everything he needs to make the cake. He would think that having a baker’s daughter watching him bake would be reassuring, but to be perfectly honest? It’s not. It’s kind of terrifying. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Marinette asks.

“I’ve made cake before, Marinette.” Jon rolls his eyes. “And I cook for us half the time. Do you really have so little faith in me?”

Marinette just fixes him with a flat look and asks, “Do you want me to help?”

Jon maintains that he can do it on his own. Still, he wants the cake to be as good as it can be, and Marinette can be considered somewhat of an expert on the subject. And David wants everything to be perfect so he will get on Jon’s case if he finds out a baker’s daughter offered to help and he turned it down. So, Jon sets down the recipe and quietly says, “Yes, please.”

Marinette giggles. It’s an angelic sound Jon really should appreciate more. “Okay, move over.” She quickly grabs one of the bowls and starts throwing ingredients in without measuring a thing. “And for the record, you _can_ do it alone. It’s just going to be better if I help.”

Jon opens his mouth to protest but ends up just groaning. “Yeah, that’s fair. Thanks, Marinette.”

“No problem. I need a distraction, anyway.”

“Oh, really?” Jon asks, picking up the bowl of sugar and butter to cream it together while Marinette flits around him to grab something he missed. They don’t have a stand mixer, mostly because they hardly have space for their coffee maker if they still want to use the countertops, but his muscles are good for something. “Studying?”

Marinette pauses. “Something like that.” She says. “So, when’s this party?”

Jon frowns at her behavior but, ultimately, if she doesn’t want to share, she doesn’t need to. She’ll tell him if it’s any of his business. “Saturday. You want to come? No one would mind.”

Marinette hums for a moment. “No, thank you. I’m just going to get a head start on studying for finals.”

He shrugs. “Probably a good idea. We’ve got real dumb shenanigans planned to set up David and Tamias and you are probably smart for not being there, honestly.”

“Oh, god.” Marinette mutters. “Alya used to pull some of the most convoluted plans to set me up with Adrien before we got together. I don’t even want to imagine what a boy’s version of that is.”

Jon can’t help laughing at the disgusted look on her face. “When David’s involved?” He says. “You really don’t.”

* * *

Predictably, David ends up setting the curtains on fire. It’s not his fault, of course, but it happens anyway. Their other friend, Mason (the most reasonable one, including Jon), gets $20 from each of them, though it’s Jon who actually puts the fire _out_. With a small fire extinguisher that Mason brings. Because he totally calls it.

Truth be told, Jon isn’t exactly close with anyone there. He meets most of them through projects or each other and sort of falls into this group by accident. He spends much more time with Marinette than with other NYU students. Partly because, now, anyway, he doesn’t have to hide around her. He doesn’t have to worry about small feats that normal people aren’t able to do. Too casually moving furniture, or forgetting to put on an oven mitt and not burning himself. And partly because when David does anything outside of his field of expertise, _something_ ends up on fire or otherwise destroyed.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it’s usually _because_ of his area of expertise.

Today’s explanation boils down to “mood lighting.” Jesse is their lookout while David insists everyone light candles to “set the mood” so he can pull Tamias into the room later and ask him out. Luckily, they don’t get very far. Unfortunately, the reason they don’t get far is because David “I can make a chandelier in five minutes” Hernandez thinks duct tape, a prayer, and a bunch of random things he finds in his bedroom can make a cute chandelier.

It’s more about if he _can_ than if he _should_. Jon gives Mason the twenty bucks while David is taping his creation to the ceiling fan. In hindsight, he should not have had faith that David would pull off the night without injuring something.

Anyway, the chandelier, surprisingly, works. The problem comes when he puts candles up there and takes a look at it and says, “This was a really dumb waste of time, wasn’t it?” And, to be fair, it _is_ hideous, all wire and tape, so it’s not exactly the mood-setter he hopes for. David reaches up to take it down again, and _that’s_ when everything goes wrong. He slips, lit candles fly everywhere, there’s wax on the floor, a curtain is catching fire, and Jon is already pulling out the fire extinguisher.

On the bright side, Tamias comes in, sees David wincing and holding his head, and rushes to his side to fuss over him. Mason ushers everyone else out of the room, leaving David with Tamias and a wink.

While they wait for the lovebirds to come back out, they make an obstacle course for David’s cat. And David. There’s a _lot_ of tape involved. Jon mostly watches, since he feels weird setting up all this in David’s home, but the others are a lot closer to him and they don’t hesitate a moment. Apparently, this is normal.

_Note to self,_ Jon thinks, _never let them in your apartment._

“Beer?”

Jon shakes his head. He has drunk before, but he can’t _get_ drunk unless his powers are inhibited somehow, and alcohol tastes terrible, so he doesn’t see the point. It’s not a bad thing. He actually counts it as a blessing because if he _could_ get drunk, he would be ardently against it. He does not want to see anyone with his kind of powers inebriated. That’s just asking for trouble.

Not to mention he’s technically still underaged. Marinette’s old enough, though, this year, as is Mason. No one thinks much about it when everyone’s in college together.

“You figure out your major yet?” Mason asks, making himself comfortable on the couch next to him.

“Nope.” Jon answers.

“Seriously? We pick classes like next week, dude. You going another semester undeclared?”

“Might have to.”

Jesse leans over the back of the sofa to say, “You were on that whole moral ideals thing a while ago. Why not study ethics or something?”

Jon _has_ considered studying ethics, but that has always been just a joke. He can’t imagine himself having fun in ethics. “Because I know an ethics major.” Jon says with a snort.

“Ha! True. You could do, like… geology. Or archeology. I don’t know why; I see you digging.”

“That’s because I grew up on a farm.”

“Oh, right.” Jesse whispers. “Was that racist?”

Jon looks at Jesse for a moment. “…No. It’s not a bad idea, though.” He takes a moment to ponder those options. He would do well in archeology. Finding old things from past civilizations, learning about what they were for and the people that used them… it’s a good idea.

Ethics is too subjective. There are no real answers, so every argument will always end up circling around itself until everyone is infuriated. Especially Jon. Especially with him having been a hero. And maybe he really just doesn’t want to be told that he has to be a hero to be a good person. He’s starting to believe he doesn’t, just a little, thanks to the _Girod_ , and he’s not risking diving into ethics and having that crisis again.

That said, one of Jon’s leading options has always been studying people. Politics or sociology or something in that vein. Archeology, or maybe broader, anthropology, might be exactly what he’s looking for. To study cultures and civilization, to learn about the dominant race on Earth in a way he’ll never understand Kryptonians. It’s a little exciting, when he thinks about it. And it’s funny – the alien studying humans. Jon will get a giggle out of that for a long time. “I could do anthropology.”

Mason hums. “I can see that for you. Cultural anthropology sounds like your jam, to be honest.”

Jon laughs somewhat awkwardly. It’s true, but he honestly didn’t think Mason knows him well enough to tell. Maybe he’s just that transparent. He can buy that. Despite how much he hides about his identity and abilities, he’s not exactly an enigma. He’s certainly no Damian. “You think?”

“Worth looking into.” Mason shrugs. “You’re running out of time, dude.”

“Yeah, good point.” Jon makes a face. “I’ll have to look into it.”

David and Tamias stumble out of Mason and Jesse’s makeshift hallway obstacle course, the former glaring and the latter giggling awkwardly. Everyone watches David expectantly, but they get a curt shake of his head and it’s all they can do to stop themselves from groaning. _Maybe next time. At least Tamias is having fun._

* * *

The more Jon looks into it, the more appealing the option is. Or maybe it’s just because he needs to sign up for classes and _any_ direction is a godsend.

He likes the idea of anthropology. It’s a grab bag of history, culture, human behavior, even biology if he wants to go in that direction, and to a lesser extent all the myriad specializations that go into the entirety of human history, which is basically all of them. Maybe he can even learn a bit about fashion history and surprise Marinette. Extant garments from history count under the sphere of anthropology, Jon thinks, so it isn’t impossible.

_Actually, that’d be pretty interesting. If Marinette has taught me anything about clothes, it’s that they can tell you a lot about the people who wear them. I wonder how much we can learn about a culture just from its clothes._

_And I wonder if anything I learn studying this could be applied to Krypton, too. That would be interesting._

Jon talks to Marinette about it, and then Damian, and then his parents, and every one of them is supportive of this direction for him. Granted, all of them boil down to, “If that’s what you want to do,” but still. Aunt Kara gets a big laugh at the idea, and then gets really excited about it, and Jon can’t help but wonder if she’s just supporting him in that odd, exuberant way she does (the way that he’s half-sure she’s only like with him, because she knows it’s a surefire way to make him smile – she’s done that since he was little) or if she gets the idea that he might use the techniques and methods he learns studying humans and turn his gaze back to Krypton. Maybe they can recover even a little of that lost culture that even Aunt Kara can’t hold onto.

Jon’s not against the idea, he just doesn’t want her to get her hopes up. As neat as it would be, Jon still doesn’t know how he would even start, much less whether he wants to. It’s just… an academic interest. Because he’s one of very few people with that option available to him. A path mapped by curiosity, not passion. Maybe that will change if Jon starts down it, but only God knows the future.

But once he talks to the ones he’s closest to, he talks to the boys again, mostly for reassurance, and then he talks to his advisor and all of a sudden things start happening a little too quickly

All at once he’s signing up for classes and running around to turn in forms to their proper places all without time to really think about what he’s doing. Fair enough, he supposes, once he has time to breathe again. He’s been thinking it over for a year and a half, basically. It’s about time something is actually done.

With everything over and done with, Jon sits on the sofa in his living room, leans back to stare at the ceiling, and smiles. He’s not certain he’s making the right choice, he’s not sure that this is definitely, one hundred percent the thing he wants to spend his time doing, but he’s finally taken that first step in a direction. Finally, the crossroads ahead of him has become a path, and even if it’s not the best path for him, it’s still a direction. That’s a lot less scary.

It’s not like he’s locked in place, anyway. He might be a bit locked into his major soon, if how quickly his first year (and this semester) goes by says anything about his college experience, but even then, that doesn’t dictate his career. He still has a lot of options; they’re just not swarming all around him. And it’s such a relief.

He sighs there on the couch and feels lighter than he has in a long time. He has focus, direction, something to work towards beyond some vague ideal of normalcy. He’s finding in his attempt to decipher the _Girod_ some Frankenstein of an ethics system that doesn’t necessitate heroism for its own sake, even if deep in his heart he knows he’s crafting it himself and at least to an extent is working backwards from his conclusion, the one that he needs, that he’s not a bad person. (He’s not sure that’s a bad thing, though.) He’s actually excited about the future! For the sheer number of times he’s thought there might not be one, that’s quite an achievement.

And he can’t do this without Marinette. Through all of his floundering, his philosophical musings, his hesitation, his fear and doubt, she’s always right there. Something close enough to normal to matter. A rock that he can float back down to. She’s his tree on the farm, that sits quietly with him as he watches the stars, that holds him up when he’s scared of falling.

It’s been a long time since Jon has just sat down and felt content. When Marinette joins him and they watch a show on the television, Jon can’t help but think how lovely it would be for this to be his normal. If this feeling, this moment, could last forever, Jon would be happy.

* * *

Jon gets an unexpected text from Damian during winter break. It’s odd partly because Damian is the kind of person who calls more often than not, partly because Damian is the kind of person who will show up outside Jon’s window in every other situation, and partly because, to Jon’s knowledge, there’s no cause for Damian to contact him at all.

They’re friends, of course, but it would be a massive lie to say they’re the kind of friends who hit each other up just to talk. Neither of them are really that kind of person. Frankly, Jon is a little surprised that they’re still friends now that he isn’t a hero. Sad as it is, he half-expects them to drift apart quickly without them working together all the time.

But however much a text from Damian throws him off, the content is what takes his legs out from under him. It’s a link to a news article, with no additional context. The article is originally in French, but apparently the batcave translated it already so what Damian sends him is helpfully readable.

And Jon feels a little like something is grabbing his heart. Too-cold hands wrapped around it, constricting it, trying their best to mute its beating.

_“Mayura Strikes Again,”_ the headline reads, _“Ladybug Returns.”_

_Ladybug returns._ The words echo in his head easily, finding nothing else to disrupt them. His mind is empty except for that one thought. That, and the sickening feeling he has in his gut. “Marinette…”

He scrolls through the article, dread and horror looming over him, drooling on him, sliding down his spine to send shivers all through him. There are pictures. Mayura, Chat Noir, a couple heroes Jon only knows tangentially – they were around before but stopped fairly early on, Marinette tells him their identities were outed – Queen Bee and Viperion, and there in all her glory, Ladybug. Marinette.

She’s older than the last picture of her. Her hair is longer, though Jon knows she’s thinking of cutting it short. She’s wearier, more tired, strangely enough, despite being out of the fight for over a year. Jon thinks it’s what Damian says is going on with him. He’s safe, so he can process everything. It’s hard, and Jon knows Marinette struggles with it too, but that’s why he can’t… He can’t fathom why she’d do this.

No. He can. He knows better than anyone why. There is no other choice but to fight, or so she thinks. Mayura got her Miraculous back somehow, so the battle, Marinette’s old battle, the one she became Ladybug in the first place to fight, is back on. She’s obligated to fight. To finish her duty. It’s her responsibility, and Marinette is, without a doubt, a responsible person. Jon _understands_ , he just… feels betrayed.

It’s stupid to feel this way. She can do whatever she likes. If she wants to become a hero again, or even if she just feels like there’s no other option, then she can. But Jon thought they were in this life, this choice to leave heroism behind them, together. He thought they were working on this as a team, and he can’t help but feel a little like Marinette has guided him onto the field, handed him the football, and left him to face a whole team of linemen on his own.

Not to mention, as much as he hurts for himself, he hurts for her, too. He knows – he might be the only one who knows – how hard it must be for her to decide to fight again. He wonders what pushes her to this point, if Mayura is really so extreme on her own, and he pities her. Jon has been called back to duty more than a few times since he retired, and not just by Damian. He’s always refused. He always tells them that he can’t help them. Marinette is called back, and she answers. Jon doesn’t know if that’s brave or stupid, but either way he knows how she feels, and because he does, he can’t be angry at her. He feels betrayed, confused, and alone, but not angry. All he feels for her is pity. That she is put in an impossible position. He wishes her the best.

And then he turns his attention back to himself. He wonders what might cause him to don the cape again, and he fights the urge to retch. How can she do this? How can she be strong enough to do this? Jon isn’t. He doesn’t think he is, anyway. Just watching her, watching his normal soar over rooftops and beat down the bad guy, is enough to freeze Jon completely. It’s hard to breathe, to think, impossible to move. The very idea of doing that himself is… ridiculous.

Above everything else, though? Above it all, Jon is disappointed. And scared. Is this how his own retirement will end? Will he soon enough face that one call to action that he just can’t refuse? Is he wrong to resist it? Is he truly a coward, selfish, despicable for trying so hard to avoid it? Would refusing that irrefusable call to action be those things?

Jon tries to remember the _Girod_. Peace, his devotion to non-violence. Imagination, cleverness in finding the non-violent path even when it isn’t obvious. Hope, maintenance in his belief that things can and will be better. Restraint, to never take things too far when they can be resolved more gently. Purity, his ideals cannot be compromised no matter the situation. Justice… Must Justice be sacrificed for the rest of the virtues? Is it simply not possible to uphold them all?

Where is Justice if Mayura creates these monsters and Ladybug does not fight them? Where is justice if someone on the streets of New York cries out for help, and no one comes? Justice is the most difficult of the virtues for Jon to reconcile, and right now… he doesn’t know what to think.

He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates the look on Ladybug’s face in the video and pictures, hates how disgusted she looks, hates that he’s one of few people who will understand that the look isn’t for the monster, but for herself. He hates that she’s in Paris fighting a battle she wants no part in while he’s on a farm in Hamilton County waiting for the stars to shine. He hates that there’s nothing he can do to help her, to save her from this impossible position she’s in. He hates that that desire itself is a little too close to heroism, and he especially hates the unreasonable panic and nausea that overcomes him.

How awful this entire situation is. How unfair and terrible the fates are to them both. But above all else, _Will Marinette be okay?_

* * *

The situation with Mayura escalates and resolves quickly. Marinette comes back to New York later than she usually does, but still before classes start. If Jon doesn’t know any better, he’d think she’s just more lax because they’re getting used to how college works.

All through break he agonizes over whether to reach out to her. To offer to contact the Justice League for her (pointless, since it’s Damian who tells him about the situation in the first place), to offer anything he can do to help, but every time he touches his phone he feels paralyzed. He doesn’t know what to say, how to approach this, or, really, anything at all.

He ends up not speaking to her much over the break. She doesn’t call him, either, but he supposes she has bigger things to focus on.

But he refuses to let this be a repeat of last year. He will not let this turn them into strangers in their own home again. He won’t allow this to be what breaks them apart. Jon is still friends with Damian. He still has other hero friends. If Marinette has to be a hero, then fine. Jon won’t let this stop them from being friends. Maybe they can’t be everything they thought, maybe things are different and uncertain and scary, but they can be friends at least.

So, when Marinette finally arrives in New York, Jon sits at their little table and waits. It feels almost like he’s preparing for an intervention, and he’s awkward and uncomfortable in that little wooden chair despite the cushion Marinette made for it.

Marinette walks into the living room, sees him, and shrinks in the hallway. “I take it you saw the news.” She says softly.

“I did.” Jon confirms. “Sorry to spring this on you, but you know we have to talk about it.”

Marinette flinches, but nods. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t… they needed me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Marinette.” Jon thinks his voice sounds tired, almost dead, but for the way she recoils he’d think he’s vicious. It sends a little pang through him and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch. “I’m not angry. I’m just… sad.”

“…That’s worse.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but he hears it.

“Look.” He says. “I’m not letting this be last year all over again. I can’t handle that, I don’t think you can handle that, and neither of our grades can handle that either. So, don’t close off from me, okay? I’m not- I’m not angry. I’m not- I’m feeling a lot of things, but nothing _at_ you. If that makes any sense. I just- I want to know. It’s fine if you’re going to keep being a hero. I promise. I’m still friends with all my old hero partners – I don’t have a problem being friends with a hero. Just don’t lie to me, Marinette.” He hears her suck in a hissing breath. “Are you serious about giving it up or not? Because I thought we were in this together, and… And now everything’s different, and I can’t keep doing this, either. If I’m doing this alone, I need to know. It’s fine if I am. That was the original plan, anyway. So, tell me the truth.”

Marinette doesn’t say anything for a too-long moment. Jon opens his eyes to peek at her when he hears the other chair pull out from the table. Marinette sits properly, folding her hands in her lap, and stares at the table between them. “I don’t want to be a hero. I promise, I was honest. I never wanted to fight again. I honestly thought I wouldn’t have to.”

“But you did.”

“I did. I’m sorry. I didn’t see any other option.”

Jon takes a deep breath. “Marinette… the life that I want, it’s non-violent. I’m trying my best to be as pacifist as I can. You inspired that decision. You told me that violence is violence no matter what it’s for. That heroes who fight can’t truly say they stand for peace. I know you’re not me, and I know your… values and ideals are different than mine, but… in the life that _you_ want, is peace something you value?”

“Of course, it is.”

“Then why would you sacrifice that?” Jon sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I- I’m just confused.”

“No. You’re right.” Marinette sniffs a little, and she’s all tension as she glares at the table. “I was… I felt trapped. Like I had no other option. But I did, and there’s no excuse for fighting. If I’d just looked closer, I could have found a way. I should have.”

“You said before that part of the reason you quit being a hero is because you felt trapped.” Jon says. “I think this might be why. At least partly.”

Marinette ducks her head, grimacing. “You’re probably right. But… I have to be honest with you. I am the guardian of the Miraculous. I don’t want to be, but I am. I left the Miracle Box with Chat Noir when I came here, and because I abandoned my responsibilities, nearly all of the Miraculous were stolen, and Paris had to deal with Mayura again.”

“Do you really blame yourself for that?”

“I do.” Marinette says firmly. “It’s my responsibility to look after the Miraculous, and they got stolen because I abandoned them.”

Jon can see how she comes to that conclusion. He doesn’t exactly agree, but her logic isn’t faulty. “So?”

“So, I can’t neglect my duties anymore. If I’m the guardian, I have to act like it. Otherwise, we’ll end up with another tragedy.”

Jon nods slowly. “So, you’re going to keep being Ladybug.” Marinette curls her lip and nods. “And you’re okay with that?”

“…No.”

Jon takes a deep breath. “Marinette… I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I don’t. But I want to see you happy. I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for ‘duty’ or whatever you’re obligated to do. That’s what heroes do, and being heroes has…” He chuckles helplessly. “Well, we left that behind for a reason.”

Marinette furrows her brow, worries her lip, and then sighs slowly. “You’re right. You asked me if I’m serious about giving up Ladybug. Adrien made me promise to be happy.” She takes another deep breath, preparing herself. A single tear escapes her, alarming Jon as it rolls quickly down her cheek. “This is my answer, then. I, Marinette Dupain-Cheng…”

Tikki appears out of nowhere, screeching her protest. “Marinette, don’t!”

“…hereby relinquish the Miracle Box and nam-”

The moment she starts glowing, and Tikki turns a deadly glare to him, it clicks in Jon’s brain what exactly Marinette is doing. He throws the table aside, accidentally tossing it quite a bit further than he intends, and dives to slap his hand over Marinette’s mouth. “Don’t you dare!” Jon growls.

Marinette, stunned speechless and no longer glowing now that her… ceremony, or whatever, is interrupted, levels a glare at him. She pushes him off of her and snaps, “Why not? I’ll never be happy so long as this stupid guardianship has me trapped in this life. No matter what I do, it’ll always be my job to clean up Miraculous messes, whether I want to or not. The only way to live the life that I want is to pass it on and forget it all.”

“But you’re the best Ladybug ever, Marinette!” Tikki protests. “You can’t just give it all up!”

“I already did!” Marinette says. “I already told you I don’t want to be a hero! I love you, Tikki, but you haven’t been paying attention. I’m sorry, but I’m not Ladybug anymore. I haven’t been since I made the decision to come to New York.”

“But-”

“Don’t ask me to keep doing something I hate, Tikki. Please.”

“But I-” Tikki flinches when she catches herself, and then finally whispers. “Okay. I just want you to be happy.”

“Thank you.” Marinette turns her gaze to Jon. “I expected Tikki to try, but why did _you_ stop me? Don’t you see? This _is_ the other way. This is how I can live peacefully.”

Jon watches her talk to Tikki with an understated anger simmering just beneath his skin, agitated like the surface of the ocean, rippling across his body like liquid. And when she talks to him, he can’t help how his voice raises just a little. “What did I _just_ say?” He asks. “Don’t sacrifice yourself! Like it or not, your memories make you who you are. I’m not letting you throw away so much of your life just because you can’t see a better option! You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng! You’ll _figure out_ another option. I’ll _make_ another option _for you_ if that’s what it takes! But don’t you dare sacrifice yourself, _again_ , for your stupid ‘duty’ you hear?!”

Marinette and Tikki both are staring wide-eyed at him. Then, all at once, both of them look ashamed of themselves. “You’re right.” Marinette says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Jon winces. He hates that temper of his. He hates that he gets angry sometimes when he shouldn’t. But Marinette just… giving up. After so much effort put into creating what they’ve found, and so much potential in the future, to just give up now is… “Sorry I yelled.” He says. “But don’t give up on this. Don’t give up hope. We’ll figure it out.”

Marinette nods. It’s uncertain and hesitant, but she does. “I hope so.”


	9. I remember the first night that she went to find her little place inside this world.

“So… that’s the box?”

Marinette nods, frowning down at the Miracle Box.

“It’s, uh…” Jon clears his throat awkwardly, “spherical.”

Marinette snickers. “Not what you were expecting?”

She watches Jon frown at the ladybug-spotted dome of the box. “Well, no…”

“It’s kind of ugly, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Thank God, you said it!” Jon sighs in what must be relief. “I didn’t want to, I don’t know, insult the kwami’s… home? I don’t know, is this thing sacred?”

Marinette giggles freely, enjoying his antics. “It’s fine. It’s not exactly subtle. Or cute. The old guardian, the one who chose me, when the box was his it was this really pretty ornamental puzzle box sort of thing. But then I get it and it’s… this.”

“It’s spherical!” Jon exclaims.

“Yeah, it’s not even a box anymore and I’m honestly not sure if we should, you know, keep calling it that. But what’s the alternative? The Miracle Orb?”

Jon bursts into a giggling fit at that. “Miracle Egg.” He says.

“Or just Egg.” Marinette laughs.

“It _is_ an oblong spherical thing that holds living creatures, so…” Jon just keeps cackling, and Marinette laughs along with him. It’s ridiculous to even consider calling the Miracle Box, the vessel that holds over a dozen immortal gods, an _egg_ , but that’s exactly why Marinette is short on breath and leaning on Jon for support. (Mostly, because the description isn’t _wrong_.)

“Anyway.” Marinette says when she calms down. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About finding another way. It might not be… ideal, but I think I figured something out.”

“You did?” Jon watches her curiously. “And what’d you figure out?”

Marinette sighs and closes her eyes. “First, that you’re right. Passing the guardianship on to Chat Noir isn’t really an option. I don’t… Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want to forget. It’s too much of my life. I wouldn’t be the same person I am now if I did. And… despite how hard it is sometimes, I do like the person I am now.” She punches Jon’s shoulder gently. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Jon grins cheekily. “For stopping you from forgetting, or for helping you like yourself?”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.” Marinette teases. “But both. You’re a big reason why I’m happy giving up being a hero. I never would have accepted that I don’t _have_ to be. I still haven’t completely, but if you weren’t here, then forgetting really would be my only option.” She sighs again, shaking her head. “Anyway. I was thinking about how to be guardian while still refusing to fight, and I’m honestly a little embarrassed I didn’t think of it sooner. The guardian before me did the same thing, though in his case it was because he was too old to fight.”

Jon looks between her and the box. “What are you going to do.”

“I’m giving up Tikki. Not completely, of course. She’ll still be in the box. But I still need a Miraculous to use if I have to, so instead of her, I’ll partner with Wayzz.”

Jon furrows his brow, but simply watches as Tikki and Wayzz both frown sadly at her. “Are you sure about this, Marinette? You’re such a wonderful Ladybug.” Tikki says.

“I’m sure, Tikki.” Marinette glances to Jon. “Wayzz is the turtle kwami of protection.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Wayzz bows politely to Jon, who nods back.

“Did you see when Carapace was around?” Marinette asks.

“I did.” Jon says. “So, this is the Miraculous that he used?”

“Yes. It’s also the Miraculous that the guardian before me used. Its powers are all about shielding. Protection. I can use it, and keep myself and the Miraculous safe, all without breaking my promise of non-violence.”

Jon blinks dumbly. “You made a promise?”

“I am right now.” She says. “To you. We both want to leave that life behind us, and I turned my back on this once, so I’m promising you now. I won’t fight. Ever. If I ever have to again, I’ll find another way. I won’t abandon this life again. Or you.”

Jon worries his lip. His eyes are watery, but otherwise he just stares at her. “I promise, too.” He says eventually. “We’re in this together. No more fighting. No more heroes. There’s always another way.”

“A peaceful life.” Marinette says with a smile.

“A peaceful life.” He agrees. Then, he chuckles softly. “Normal was never possible, was it? But peaceful is. We know it is.”

Wayzz looks between the two of them for a moment and says, “Normal is a common misconception. Even people who are never touched by magic or heroism are all unique. Thus, a ‘normal life’ is entirely subjective, and says little about the actual contents of the life.”

“Heh. I see.” Jon says softly. “You’re the wise one.”

Wayzz laughs. “I try to be helpful.”

“Aha, well, I look forward to getting to know you, Wayzz.”

“And I, you.”

Marinette smiles at the two before turning her attention back to Tikki. “I’m sorry, Tikki.” She says. “I feel like I’m letting you down.”

“Never, Marinette.” Tikki zooms close to hug her cheek. “I understand. Wayzz is a good partner, and I’m glad you found something you care so much about. I’m proud of you, for making the decision to stand by what you believe in.”

And now Marinette is teary-eyed. “Thank you, Tikki. You’ve no idea how much that means to me.”

“Stay safe.” Tikki says. “Stay strong. I believe in you. Just do what you have to to be happy.”

“I will. I promise.”

Tikki drifts over to Jon to look him over sternly. “Take care of her.”

Jon purses his lips. “Duh. But you’re not going anywhere, though, right? Just into the Egg. You’ll be around to kick my butt if I do anything out of turn.”

Tikki giggles. “You’re right. I will. It’s just… sad. Marinette’s been my partner for many years now, and from the box I can’t always help her. I’m asking you to help her.”

“I already promised.” Jon says. “We’re in this together.”

Satisfied with that answer, Tikki nods and, with one last long look at Marinette, vanishes into the Miracle Box. Marinette carefully places the earrings inside, then checks the fastening of the bracelet around her wrist.

The air is tense, as if the very room can sense the significance of the moment. An exchange of Miraculous isn’t a small thing, especially when the ladybug Miraculous is involved. But Marinette puts a swift end to that tension with a decisive, clinical change of subject. “I don’t know about you,” She says to Jon, “but I am going to _ace_ this semester.”

Jon chuckles. “I’m still hurting from that second semester, to be honest. But I’m with you. Can’t mess up my first semester in my new major.”

“We need to get into good habits again, like we did when we first got here.” Marinette says, standing to return to her desk and calendar. “And no more of this drama. I know this was my fault, but still.”

“Ugh, agreed.” Jon says. “We cannot do this every year. At least we figured it out in just a couple weeks this time. Not like last time.”

Marinette flinches. “Don’t remind me. That was my fault, too.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Jon says softly. “I would have done the same thing. That was just something we were inevitably going to have to deal with. I’m glad we got it out of the way so early. We’ve still got _years_ to get everything put back together. And that’s only including college. Not to mention it would have hurt more if we’d kept the secret longer.”

“Good point.” She admits. “Still, I’m sorry I’ve caused so much trouble for you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jon waves her off. “Water under the bridge. It probably _would_ have been simpler if I’d gotten some random normal roommate, but I’m still glad I got you.” He nudges her playfully. “You’re my friend.”

Marinette ducks her head, feeling her cheeks warm, but she doesn’t try to fight off the smile that stretches across her face.

* * *

“No, things have just been a bit hectic lately.” Marinette says into the phone. “I haven’t been giving myself enough time to study, so I’m playing catch up.” It’s not the whole truth, obviously, but she can’t tell even those closest to her about what’s been going on with Jon without his permission. He may not be Superboy anymore, but anyone who figures him out will be able to figure out Superman’s civilian identity and that could be disastrous. Not to mention, Marinette is sure that Jon doesn’t want the attention.

“Well, your education comes first.” Penny’s voice over the speaker says firmly. “But there’s some time before we’ll need everything. We know you’re in school, so we didn’t want to put any more on you than necessary. Do you think you can do the album cover, and then we can figure out later if you’ll have time to do the tour outfits?”

Marinette thinks for a moment. “That’ll work. I’ll be working off and on, since I don’t want to sacrifice study time, so keeping track of hours will be difficult. Will the flat rate work for you?”

“That’s fine. I’ll look around for other designers for the tour as a backup plan but let us know when you can if you think you’ll be able to make them for us.”

“I should have a good idea after midterms.” Marinette answers. “I’ll let you know once I do. Same NDA?”

“As always. I’ll send it now. You still want your identity secret, I assume?”

“For now, yes.”

Penny hums softly for a moment. “You know it would help your career if you’d let Jagged rave about you.”

“I know.” Marinette says quickly. “I’m… I think the pseudonym has served its purpose. It’s getting close to time to drop it, but… not yet. Oh! But, about the NDA, I do have a roommate. If I do have time to make those outfits, I’ll have to do it in my apartment. My roommate will see, though. It’s not a big deal, he won’t tell anyone, but I still thought you should know.”

“Ah, yes, I remember you mentioned a roommate. Let’s see… you can keep the album cover hidden, and we’ll announce the album quickly once we get that from you. So, by then, the NDA is largely finished anyway. On your end, though…”

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind him knowing. As I said, I’m thinking about announcing my name anyway.”

“If you’re sure. We could rent you a studio to work on them privately.”

“There’s no need for that.” Marinette says. “Jon can keep a secret. And you already pay me enough, you don’t need to rent a studio for me, too.”

“Money isn’t an issue, Marinette.” Penny says gently. “But ultimately it’s your decision. If you’re sure.”

“I am. Besides, we’re not even sure yet that I’ll be able to take the job.”

“Of course.” Penny says. “I have to go. Let me know about your schedule. And you know we’re here for you if you need anything.”

“I know, Penny. Thank you. And thanks again for commissioning me.”

Penny chuckles. “You know you’re the only designer rock and roll enough for Jagged.”

Marinette pulls the phone from her ear and immediately checks her email. Naturally, she already has the email she’s looking for. Jagged Stone and Marinette (and Penny) have worked together enough now that this is all fairly normal. Marinette skims through the NDA, just to confirm it’s the same as always (she trusts Penny, of course, but one can never be too careful with contracts) and signs it electronically and sends it back to Penny.

Just a few minutes later, Marinette receives all the information she’ll need to make the album cover. Jagged Stone’s concept, sample files of the music, all the drier organizational stuff that, most importantly, gives her a general deadline. Jagged is generous with information, since Marinette is under NDA anyway and he’s very passionate about everything being “rock and roll” enough.

Marinette is very lucky to have met him, despite the occasional trouble he causes. Once she lets him announce that she’s his designer, there’ll be a lot more trouble, too, but it _will_ jumpstart her career.

Marinette sighs, making sure her headphones are in before clicking through the sample sound files. While it’s true that her reasoning for hiding her identity has essentially become obsolete, that doesn’t mean she’s eager for all the buzz that will surely appear when Jagged announces the name of the designer some people are raving to know about.

When she was Ladybug, too much personal fame as Marinette could be compromising. Adrien is in the same position, of course, but he was raised in fame. He’s used to it and knows how to navigate it. When Marinette designed those glasses and that first album cover for Jagged and everyone knew about her, a girl so young designing _anything_ for an artist like Jagged Stone, she had her own moment of fame. Not to mention everything she watches Adrien go through, or, on occasion, goes through with him. That attention frightens her, it makes her nervous, and when she gets nervous, she’s more likely to slip up.

Plus, she was only a child. She didn’t need that kind of attention at that age. Not on top of Ladybug and, later, being Adrien Agreste’s girlfriend.

But there is no more Ladybug. Marinette is just a normal, adult girl in university. If she wants to get her name out as a big designer, there’s no danger in it. The idea is appealing. After all, what designer doesn’t want their brand to be recognized? Still, old habits die hard. As appealing as it is, it also makes her nervous. Part of her wants to wait until she’s finished with university, another part is calling that part a coward.

She doesn’t need to decide quite yet, though. For now, she has an album cover to design. As always, she does the best she can. As always, she feels that doubt that she’ll live up to expectations. But also, as always, Jagged adores the final design.

Marinette sighs in relief.

She doesn’t take time away from studying to make the album cover. She works on it during breaks and between classes while she’s just hanging around the university. It’s just a drawing, too, so once she gets the design solidified, most of her time spent on it is getting it to a state where it’s presentable. It’s still a time-consuming process, but it’s something she can pick up and work on for a few minutes here and there, rather than devoting entire evenings to.

That said, once she’s finished with it and it’s sent off to Penny and Jagged, Marinette redoubles her focus on her studies. The possibility of designing for Jagged’s next tour is too great an opportunity to pass up, so she has to be organized, be ready, and blow her midterms away.

She won’t be that girl that overworks herself committing too much to others at the sacrifice of her own well-being anymore. That was Ladybug Marinette. Jon told her not to sacrifice herself, and this qualifies, too. If she’s not up to snuff on the midterms, she _will_ turn down the commission. Jagged understands, as does Penny. There will be more opportunities. Heck, there’s the retroactive opportunity whenever he announces that she designed his _last_ few notable outfits. But if she messes up university, that’s not so easily made up, and she’s already butchered one semester with drama.

Her priorities are in order, and for what seems like the first time in a long while she’s happy with them, so she studies. She finds her routine. Classes in the morning, with some time between them out and about for lunch or to talk to friends, then she comes home in the evening, writes down all her assignments on her whiteboard, and starts checking them off one by one.

Jon makes dinner on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, because his classes let out earlier than hers do, but her Tuesday and Thursday are less crowded than his, so she takes dinner duty then, giving him a little extra time to do homework and study as well. They eat together every evening and use the time to chat and forget about studies for an hour or two. It works for them, based on their schedules this semester. Next semester they’ll have to reorganize, but that’s just fine with them. That’s just the way things are in university.

Most days, Marinette doesn’t have much to do after dinner. Since she’s not behind on her work anymore, she gets everything done by the time dinner is ready, so she either studies if she needs to, or relaxes, plays video games, designs if she feels like it. (And if she sketches out some designs for Jagged’s tour, then that’s just less work for her to do after she aces the midterms and takes the commission.) More than a few times, she and Jon have a movie night just because they’re both feeling good about what they’re doing and want to take that small moment to celebrate themselves. Sometimes, it’s nothing so fancy as that, and they’re just watching the television and the other comes in and joins them for no reason at all.

“By the way,” Marinette says suddenly, drawing Jon’s lazy attention. “Did your friends ever get together? David and Tamias?”

Jon shakes his head with a smile on his lips. “No. They’re still pining.”

“Gross.”

“Tell me about it.”

Marinette giggles. “Honestly, that whole situation is freaky to me. It makes me have flashbacks to _collège_.”

“Pfft. Your friends did the same thing to you, right?”

She groans. “Yes. I had the dumbest crush on Adrien, and Alya was always trying to set us up.”

“Is the crush really that dumb if you ended up dating him?” Jon asks.

“You did not know me during the crush phase.” Marinette says. “It was _really_ dumb. Thank god I’m older and wiser now. It does make watching grown men do the same thing a little surreal, though.”

Jon snickers. “You should tell David that. Maybe you’ll embarrass him enough to square up.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s doing his best. I’m not going to make it harder on him.”

Jon hums. “In his defense, things tend to catch on fire around David. Once, I kid you not, he accidentally set his homework on fire from the sun going through his glasses.”

“He _what_? You’re joking.”

“I swear. I was there. It was stupid and hilarious, and it ruined a perfectly good opportunity for him to tell Tamias how he feels, so I kind of can’t blame him for messing it up all the time.”

“And things like that happen all the time?”

Jon nods. “Oh, yeah. It’s _like_ he’s clumsy, but instead of tripping and dropping stuff, things catch on fire or explode. It’s kind of weird how often that happens to him. Frankly, I’m a little surprised he’s alive.”

Marinette shivers at the thought. “Keep him away from FIT, will you? We do _not_ want a fire around all those textiles.”

“Oh, yikes. Yeah, he’s never invited to your school, ever.” Jon chuckles. “Speaking of, though, how’s midterm prep coming?”

“Good as it can, I think.” Marinette says. “You?”

He groans. “Good as it can, I suppose.”

Marinette giggles at his tone. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Listen, I’m taking an _evolution_ class.” Jon whines. “Like, _biology_. It’s hard!”

“I know. But you’re a smart man. You’ve got this.”

Jon smiles good-naturedly and fixes Marinette with a look in his eyes that tells Marinette he appreciates the sentiment more than he lets on. “I’ll do my best.” He says.

* * *

Technically speaking, Marinette _should_ rent a studio to make Jagged’s tour outfits in. She’s essentially making a small, Jagged Stone-themed collection, after all, and her apartment is not really that big. Not to mention, she’s basically prohibited from bringing guests over for secrecy’s sake. Not that Jon and she often bring guests over. They have university friends, of course, Jon more than her, but bringing them back to the apartment is rare.

But Marinette _likes_ her apartment. And she has Jon to remind her to eat here. She can’t really help when she gets into the zone, so having someone who will remind her to take care of herself will keep her productive longer. She still hasn’t quite mastered doing it herself.

That said, Jon is living here, too, and Marinette doesn’t want to inconvenience him too much with her project. That’s why she plans everything out. It feels good to do so. She’s usually organized these days, in fact she has always been an organized person, despite often losing control of it, so having a plan of attack on this big commission is a relief when she still needs to keep up with her studies.

She doesn’t plan to finish before summer, but Jagged doesn’t need the outfits until late summer, so she’ll have time when she gets back to Paris. That said, her friends who can’t see her except over the phone for most of the year will definitely be vying for her attention, so she wants to get as much done here in New York as possible.

So, if she gets all the bases done here, she can focus on the detail work in Paris. It means all her patterning and cutting will be here, which is, annoyingly, the most time-consuming and space-consuming parts of the project, but it also means that she’ll be in a very good position once summer starts. And if she can keep on top of her schoolwork, she should have most evenings fairly free to work on it, even if it’s only an hour or two a day. That’ll add up. She just has to be organized and dedicated.

She can do this. And the first item on the list is fabric shopping. This is also the most dangerous item on the list. Even in the same store there’s no guarantee she’ll find the same fabric again if she goes back later, but the odds of finding the right fabric an ocean away? Not likely. Marinette is sure she’ll go shopping in Paris, but she plans to gather all of the essentials here.

“Hey, Jon?” Marinette says during dinner on Friday. “I’ve got a new commission, and it’s sort of a big project. I’m going to be needing to use the apartment for it. I’ll try to keep out of your way, but it’ll probably get annoying.”

Jon tilts his head cutely. “Don’t you usually do big projects over at your school?” He asks. “I’m not complaining – it’s fine – but why’re you doing this one here?”

Marinette sighs. “Because it’s a high-profile client, and technically, no one knows I work for him.”

Jon blinks, then leans forward in his seat. “Oh? This sounds interesting.”

“It’s no big deal.” Marinette says. “I had a lucky opportunity a long time ago, and he likes my style, so he keeps hiring me. But since I was barely fifteen when all that started, and I was worried about attention outing me as Ladybug, I asked him not to announce who was designing for him.”

“Ah.” Jon nods. “That makes sense. Who’s this celebrity you work for, then?”

“Jagged Stone.”

“Jagged- _woah_.” Jon’s jaw drops to the floor. “You’ve been working for him since you were _fifteen_?”

“Mhmm.” Marinette chuckles at his awe. “Nothing as big as this, of course. I did some accessories for him, and an album cover way back when. Since then I’ve been doing the occasional outfit or artwork, but now he’s asking me to do almost all of his performance outfits for his next tour. He’s been hiring me more and more as I get older. I guess he thinks I’m ready for this now.”

Jon stares dumbfounded at her. “Have told you how _cool_ you are? Because _wow_. Okay. You’re a designer for a major rock artist. No big deal, right?”

Marinette rolls her eyes at his sarcasm. “As I said, I was fifteen. Believe me, I freaked out more than enough. He’s basically my weird uncle these days, so it really isn’t that big of a deal anymore.”

“It’s _Jagged Stone_.” Jon protests. “Come on!”

Marinette stares him down. “Really, son of Superman?”

Jon flushes and ducks his head quickly. “Ah- right, yeah. Good point.”

“Anyway, keeping me hidden served its purpose. Now that I’m not Ladybug anymore, or a teenager, I think I’m going to tell him to go crazy. So, this will probably be the last thing I do for him that I have to be so secretive about. But I’d appreciate it all the same if you don’t go talking about it yet. Jagged hasn’t announced the tour yet, so technically speaking I’m breaking NDA just telling _you_ about it.”

“No worries. My lips are sealed.” Jon pretends to zip up his lips and toss the key over his shoulder.

“Good.” Marinette giggles. “Will you come fabric shopping with me tomorrow? Fair warning, you’re going to be carrying my bags. There will be a lot of bags.” Marinette smirks for a moment, then tacks on, “Hopefully.”

“Sounds like fun.” Jon says. “I’m in. You know, thinking about it, this might be the first chance I’ve gotten to see your whole process. From start to finish, I mean.”

Marinette laughs. “Not quite. There’s no way I’m finishing everything before summer. Not while staying on top of class. But that’s good. You won’t see the finished product until the reveal.”

Jon pouts a little, but his smile ruins it. “Fine. Be that way. Just remember me as your pack horse when you’re famous, will you?”

Marinette snorts. “Oh, Jon. You know you’re so much more valuable than a pack horse.” She playfully boops his nose with a finger as she rises to take her dish to the sink. She laughs as Jon turns entertainingly red.

* * *

With so much work to do, the rest of the semester flies by in a flash. Marinette has some detail work to hand sew that occupies her on the plane, and then she’s desperately trying to schedule time to work on the outfits while her friends are all dragging her around Paris.

It works out. She ends up having most of the summer to work on the outfits, so there’s no real rush.

She also has time to think about her decision. Keeping Jagged Stone’s designer secret stirs up more interest because of the intrigue of it all, but luckily, it’s been a few years since all that. There’s no good reason to stay hidden, especially considering she’s now working towards her dream of being a designer in earnest, rather than split between that and Ladybug.

It’s still frightening, but Marinette doesn’t let fear control her. She’s a normal girl. A normal woman. As normal as anyone is ever normal. Her quirks just happen to include a colorful past and some magic creatures living with her rather than the more average personality quirk. That’s all. She’s going to have a peaceful life.

She still screams to keep that armor up, though. To stay hidden and safe, where scrutiny can’t directly target her. Where her work is judged for its own merits or flaws rather than because of her name. Revealing herself makes her vulnerable, and what seems like a lifetime of caution has trained her to avoid this at all costs.

It’s a good idea, though. It’s time. Marinette will make the life she wants, and that life includes getting credit for her work. Fame is unnecessary, though it will be flattering if it comes, but she refuses to let people speculate and attribute her work to someone else. And she refuses to hide.

That’s why, with shaky hands and trembling breath, she tells Jagged after he accepts the outfits that he’s free to mention her now, if he wants. She’s twenty-one now and preparing for her career after university. It’s easy to say that’s why she stayed hidden so long up until this point, and why now for revealing her. Jagged knows more than just that, but that’s what he’ll tell everyone, because the truth is long and complicated and more convoluted than even Jagged knows.

Marinette sits alone in the dark in her room when Jagged announces the tour. It starts in a few months, during Autumn, and he’ll be in New York in November. _I should get tickets._ Marinette thinks, investigating the location. _I can go with Jon. I think that’s the week before Thanksgiving, but I should ask to be sure._ Jon always goes home for Thanksgiving. The concert is scheduled for Saturday, and with his powers it should be possible either way, but Marinette doesn’t want to ask him to fly around just to catch a concert with her.

_I should also make sure Penny isn’t already booking us tickets._

Promptly as ever, Jagged’s first statements about the new album and tour start coming out barely minutes after the announcement. A lot of it is just generating hype, and most of the rest is praising everyone who is working to ensure the tour is going to happen. The entire team that ordinarily doesn’t see the spotlight is highlighted one by one, and Marinette is one of the first.

Designer of the most recent album’s cover art, as well as many of the tour outfits everyone will see in just a few months. Designer of his looks at the past several big-name events. All-around wonderful little lady who has been like a niece to him for years now. Jagged really spares no compliment.

It doesn’t take long before her phone starts exploding from all the notifications. A lot of her old friends, the ones in Paris, already know about her working for Jagged Stone, but no one in New York except Jon does. So she gets congratulations from those that know, shock and awe and, in an odd case, outrage, from those that don’t, all mixing into the sea of social media notifications of all of her accounts suddenly being flooded with traffic at once.

It’s all a little overwhelming. But it’s not bad. And it’s nothing she’s wholly unfamiliar with. She has a bad feeling in her gut, because she doesn’t know every way her life will change and how it won’t because of this, but she calls Alya and stays on the phone with her for a long while until, eventually, she feels ready to take on the last of the summer.

Marinette laughs as photos of old work she’s done for Jagged resurfaces, now with her name to tag onto. She confirms the work she really has done for him, but otherwise takes the rest of the summer to try to stay off of social media. She doesn’t need to worry about that right now. Instead, she turns her mind to something rather more important. Something so obvious, that somehow slipped her mind until now.

As she wonders about Jagged’s November concert and Jon’s Thanksgiving with his family, Marinette realizes that they’ve known each other for two years and never once celebrated Christmas! Obviously, they’re both home for Christmas, so they can’t celebrate the holiday itself, but that’s no reason that they shouldn’t do _anything_. And now that she thinks about it, Jon’s birthday is in the second semester and they haven’t really done anything special for that, either.

With her commission for Jagged Stone done, Marinette has space for a new project lined up, as well as a lot of extra cash. She thinks it’s about time she starts thinking on her next project.


	10. You and me can make it anywhere, but for now we could stay here for a while.

Jon is, quite frankly, surprised that his friends know Marinette well enough to pinpoint her as his roommate when her name starts blowing up in the late summer. David and Tamias have met her, and Mason’s _seen_ her, but to his knowledge Jesse has never even come close to her.

It’s weird, to suddenly get messages from them all freaking out about how his roommate is Jagged Stone’s all-purpose designer, and, according to one article he reads, honorary niece. Especially since Jesse is the one who starts it.

Maybe having a flimsy pair of glasses and regular clothes as his disguise for the better part of ten years has given him less faith in people than they deserve. They can be surprisingly astute, sometimes.

He fends them off by giving them the basics. “Marinette didn’t even tell me until she had to work on those outfits in our apartment.” Jon tells them. “But yeah, she’s pretty cool, right?”

“Cool?!” Jesse exclaims. “Dude, she’s my _hero_ right now!”

Jon has to fight off the urge to cringe at Jesse’s unfortunate choice of words. _Marinette would not appreciate being called that._ “Uh, don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

“No! Jagged Stone is my favorite, man! And now I know someone who’s roommates with someone who _knows him_! Personally! I’m like, two steps away from touching him!”

Mason clears his throat. “Maybe don’t touch him.” He says.

“You know what I mean, dude!” Jesse says, practically climbing on Mason as he throws his arm over his shoulder. Jon wonders briefly why they’re even together, until he remembers the both of them are from New York and probably see each other often during the summer. “She makes his clothes! That’s so stinking rad!”

“Definitely!” David says eagerly from another window. “I still can’t believe I know someone who actually knows _the_ Jagged Stone! Like, dude! Why didn’t you mention that?!”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Why should I? I told you, I didn’t even know until she started her last commission for him, and until now she’s been keeping the fact that she designs for him under wraps. She asked me to keep it secret.”

“Aww.” Tamias says. “You’re cute with her.”

David immediately jumps up in his seat. “Yeah! That! You’re adorable, dude. Never change.”

Jon furrows his brow. “For… not telling you someone else’s secret?”

“Ignore them.” Mason says. “We get why you didn’t say anything, is what they mean.”

_Doesn’t sound like it._ Jon just shrugs and moves on. As Jesse goes on and on about Jagged Stone, Jon gets another call. He hesitates when he sees the name. “Hey, guys? I got to go. I’ll see you later.”

The boys chorus their goodbyes, and Jon hangs up on them so he can accept the incoming call. “Hey, Damian. What’s up?”

“I assume you already know,” Damian says curtly, “but I first want to confirm that you’ve seen the news about your roommate.”

“Uh, yeah, dude.”

“Good. This is your warning. That news has caught my father’s eye. As well as my brothers’. They already know, of course, of your relation to her. I don’t know what they plan or when they plan to carry it out, but you and she should both be prepared.”

Jon wants to joke, “What’re they going to do, commission her?” But then he realizes that yes, with the Wayne family, that _is_ something warranting a warning. Especially since they know she’s his friend. “Ah,” He says instead, intelligently. “Good to know. If you get any more information, let me know and I’ll try to give Marinette a heads up.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the situation. And Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“I know she has navigated fame before but do be careful. Keep an eye on her.”

“Always, dude. She’s my friend.”

He hears the sharp, distinctive click of Damian’s tongue before the call ends. Jon can’t be sure with Damian, but he suspects that second thing is what the call was really about. Damian wouldn’t just call if he doesn’t have any solid information to share. So… he must just be concerned. About Marinette? About Jon? It’s hard to tell. The guy is so cryptic even now.

Jon just sighs and shakes his head. Yes, Marinette is a small celebrity at the moment. That’ll wear off soon enough, but in the meantime, and even in the future, she has to take care to avoid celebrity pitfalls. Things people like Damian deal with every day. People only interested in them for power or fame themselves, scrutiny from the media, Jon isn’t totally unfamiliar with it all himself. After all, Damian is one of his very oldest friends, and Superboy gets his own fame. (That’s different, of course, since he has his identity to hide behind, but the principles are the same. It’s just more pervasive when it’s your regular name that’s famous.)

But Jon isn’t worried. Apparently, Marinette’s old boyfriend was a celebrity in Paris (and, to Jon’s understanding, has both the good _and_ bad kind of fame respectively before and after Hawk Moth was revealed), not to mention she has practice from being Ladybug. Marinette is fine.

And when he sees her in New York again, in their little apartment, and she’s positively buzzing with excitement about the future, Jon knows his instinct is right. Marinette is better than fine. She’s so much brighter than she’s ever been until now. She’s soaring like she’s Kryptonian, glowing with her own sun. Jon jokingly worries to himself that she’ll superpower him. She’s better than fine.

A week passes, school starts, and then one more week flies by before Marinette grins cheekily at him and drags him out of the apartment on their shared short day. Both of them are done with classes by noon, so it’s a rare day that they figure they might be able to switch things up and have lunch together instead of dinner. A little late lunch, given when they get themselves used to eating the rest of the week, but it’s an appealing idea. They like having that down time together, so eating together for lunch means they’ll have more opportunities for other plans later in the evening.

Not that they _have_ to eat together every day, it’s just… after they made that promise last semester to double down on their studies, they both neglected going out for a lot of that. Even during the summer, it feels weird eating without her. It makes him miss her.

But Marinette drags him somewhere he never honestly expects to find himself. To the Fashion Institute of Technology. “Sorry about this,” Marinette says. “I was going to do this at home, but since we have so much time today, I thought you might find it interesting to come over and check out the place. Plus, the equipment here is better. I mean, I’m only fitting, but still.”

Jon just chuckles as he follows her through the building. “No, this is cool. What, uh, are we doing, exactly, though?”

Marinette snickers mischievously. “I made a bunch of mock-ups for you. I’ve never made anything for you before, and I kind of just guessed your measurements, so I want to make sure everything fits. It’s just basic stuff. A shirt, a jacket, and some pants, there’s no real _design_ to them, because they’re just the base so that, when I _do_ make stuff for you, I know they’ll fit.”

Jon feels her pull on his arm to get him moving. The elevator door opens, but he’s still processing what she says. “Wait, you’re planning on making me things?”

With a wink, Marinette says, “It’s a surprise! That’s why you’re going to be trying on everything. You never know what I might give you, or when.”

Jon feels his cheeks warm. “Th- That’s real nice of you, Marinette, but you, like- you have _celebrity_ clients. You shouldn’t be wasting time making clothes for me. Plus, isn’t that expensive?”

“I have a celebrity client, remember?” Marinette says. “He pays me more than enough to afford the occasional gift for a friend. That’s supplies and time included. Don’t worry, I’d make you cookies if making you clothes actually hurt me at all.” Quieter, she adds, “No sacrificing, right?”

Jon nods. “Right.” He says quietly, still unsure. “And, uh, _why_ are you planning on making me anything in the first place?”

“I never said it was for right now. It could be for Christmas, or your birthday, or… I don’t know. Whatever reason I might have to give you a gift. Don’t think of this as a promise, alright? Though, I absolutely _am_ going to make you some better clothes.”

“Better?” Jon mumbles, slightly taken aback as he clutches his flannel shirt protectively.

“It’s just insurance, so that _if_ I do, I can do it right. Okay?”

“…Okay.” Jon says. He still isn’t entirely sure what is spurring this on, but Marinette is happy and excited, so he decides not to make a big deal out of it.

“Okay! In here.” She pulls him into a large workroom and leads him to a table. “Wait here for a moment.” She rushes off and comes back with a large box that clatters when it hits the table. “Alright, here we go. First off, I’d like to actually take your measurements. You ever had that done before?”

Jon nods. “A few times.” He says. He’s never gotten fitted for a tailored suit or anything, but his costume as Superboy really needs to fit. He’s had his measurements taken a few times as he grew up and had to get new suits.

“Great. Stand right here.” Jon watches dumbly as she ducks and dances around him, measuring tape flying this way and that. One moment he has his arms out, the next he’s feeling the tape on his shoulders, the next it’s around him completely, and the next Marinette has her hand uncomfortably close to his crotch. It’s a brief, surreal moment that he thinks should really be a collection of moments, but flashes by so fast that it all blurs together and she’s writing down the last number with a satisfied smile before he even registers what’s going on.

Weirdly enough, the only coherent thought he has is, _How often does she do this?_

“I think I got close enough.” Marinette says, looking between the measurements and the pile of tan fabric in her box. “I added a little bit more than I guessed, just because it’s a lot easier to take out fabric than add, so these should probably be just a tad big on you.” She goes over to her box and starts digging, laying out on the table three separate items. “As I said, these are all just mock-ups for fit. There’s not much design to them, and they’re just made of muslin. When I do make things for you, I can take the measurements from the pattern for these and make something actually stylish with them. Here, try this on.”

Jon accept the shirt from her. It’s just a simple, tan, cotton shirt. If he is honest, it’s something he wouldn’t have any problem wearing on its own. He thinks it’s probably best not to say that aloud here, though.

There’s a brief moment where Jon hesitates, and looks around the room at everyone else present and working on their own things. There’s no real… privacy. Only a little screen in the corner, that several other people are already crowded behind.

“Jon?” Marinette asks softly. “Are you not comfortable changing here?” She frowns. “This is why I was going to do this at home. Would that be better?”

Jon glances over to the lady across the room who… honestly may as well be naked, and decides to suck it up. This is a fashion school, in a workroom with models who regularly walk around in a lot less. Jon can change his shirt. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s lost his clothes in public, anyway. Part of the reason he switched to a proper suit like his dad’s instead of jeans and a shirt. Hero work, when one’s outfit isn’t designed for it, tears up clothes fast.

It’s just the first time he’s doing it willingly and doesn’t have much more important things to think about. It’s fine.

And when he _does_ take off his shirt and realizes barely anyone so much as glances at him (there are a few looks, but they’re fairly clearly more interested in Marinette and what she’s doing than him, though there _is_ one small group of girls that giggle at him), the tension eases out of him a bit.

He slips Marinette’s shirt on quickly. It’s loose and comfortable. Jon thinks it fits just fine. _I’d definitely just wear this._ He has shirts in his closet he knows are bigger on him.

Regardless of his assessment, though, Marinette quickly gets to work picking at the fabric. No thread evades her scrutiny, and Jon laughs at how she pulls at the shirt every which way as she decides how she wants to approach what, if he’s reading her face correctly, must be some sort of monstrosity. _Clearly, I have no fashion sense, so it’s all up to you, Marinette._

“Okay.” She says quietly, to herself. “As I thought, it’s big. I think I added too much to my estimates. Hold still for a moment.” She slips a pincushion around her wrist and gets to work molding the fabric to her will.

It’s strangely entertaining, when Jon thinks of the shirt as some despicable villain that she’s conquering. Inappropriate, given their histories, but a funny image regardless.

“How does that feel?” She asks, stepping back from him for a moment.

Jon lifts his arms and moves around a bit. It’s certainly more fitted than… well, _all_ of his clothes. In a way, it reminds him of his super suit. Just no cape. He’s surprised at how okay with that he is. Though, the super suit _is_ specifically made to be comfortable and to not restrict movement, so he supposes it only makes sense that well-fitting clothes serve the same purpose. “I like it.” Jon says.

“Oh, good. Jacket next, then. Here, let me help you take that off. I don’t want you messing up the pins.” As she helps gently pull the shirt over his head, she mumbles, “And normally, I’d be worried about them poking you, too, but I guess we don’t have to worry about that.”

Jon just giggles. “Nope. I’m good.”

“Alright, I’m going to baste this into place real quick so we don’t steal so many pins.” Marinette says, already threading a needle. At Jon’s hopeless look, she explains, “It’s a real quick, temporary stitch just to hold everything in place. Don’t worry about it. It’ll just be a minute or two.” Marinette quickly makes her new stitch, replacing the pins in the shirt as he puts his own shirt back on. “You can go ahead and put the jacket on while I’m doing this.”

Jon does as asked. “So, is this like an everyday thing for you?”

Marinette shrugs. “Not every day. Most of my classes aren’t much different than yours, I imagine. They’re mostly academic. But a few of them do involve this kind of thing, yeah.”

“Sounds like fun. I guess that’s what you get when you go to a specialized college.”

“What do you not do fun things at NYU?”

Jon thinks for a moment. “I mean, I’ve had fun classes. This is just really different than anything I’ve seen is all.”

Marinette giggles softly and sets the shirt down so she can focus on the jacket. “Maybe one of these days you’ll have to show me around your school. We can invite your boys, too.”

Jon groans. “Be ready to meet Jesse. He found out about the Jagged Stone thing and has been fangirling ever since.”

Marinette spares a moment to cover her face. “Oh, them, too?” She sighs. “Oh, well. I suppose it was inevitable. How does this feel?”

She steps back from her last pin to let Jon move around a bit. “Perfect.” He says honestly. “Ah, wait, maybe just a little tight around the elbow?”

Marinette clicks her tongue and makes a face that reminds Jon a little too much of Damian. Regardless, she pulls some of the pins out of the sleeve and adjusts them without comment.

“So, it _is_ you!” A girl approaches them, grinning broadly. She’s cute, in a sort of cliché, pink, valley girl kind of way. If not for her vibrating in excitement reminding him of Jesse, he’d peg her immediately as a Regina George lookalike. Or, maybe that’s mean. Elle Woods works just as well, and fits her personality better, from what Jon can see.

She’s also one the small group of girls he caught gawking at him when he took his shirt off. Both times.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, right? I’m Kasey, we have Intro to Knitwear together! And we had a few classes together last year, too.”

Marinette furrows her brow for a moment as the looks the girl up and down, but the light of recognition appears quickly. That makes Jon relax a little. Enough, at least, to think, _Intro to Knitwear? Is that the kind of classes they take here? I’m sure it’s more difficult than it sounds, but…_ “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you around!” Marinette says with a smile. “Did you need something?”

Kasey rubs her arms awkwardly, “Oh, well, I just- I saw the news over the summer. I wasn’t sure it was _you_ you until I heard you two mention it. That’s so cool that you get to dress Jagged Stone! I just- I wanted to say congratulations!”

Marinette smiles politely. “Thank you. I was really lucky to get that opportunity.”

Kasey nods enthusiastically. “Can I ask what you’re working on now?” She looks over to Jon.

“Oh, nothing in particular.” Marinette says. “This is my friend, Jon. I’m just making sure I have his size right so I can make stuff for him later.”

“Oh, that’s clever!” Kasey exclaims. “This way, all your designs will still be a surprise when you give them to him, right?”

“That’s the idea.” Marinette smirks.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jon! How do you know Marinette?”

Jon politely shakes her hand. “I’m, uh, her roommate, actually.”

“Really? That’s cool! What’s your major?”

“Anthropology. I actually go to NYU.”

Kasey giggles. “Anthropology? You must be so smart!”

“Not as smart as Marinette.” Jon chuckle. “This girl could outwit me any day.”

Marinette glares playfully at him, but rather than commenting on his compliment, she just asks, “Is the sleeve better?”

“Oh, much.”

“Good. You can take that off, then. I’ll baste that, and you can put the pants on. Uh, er… if you’re comfortable with that?”

Jon looks nervously between Marinette, Kasey, the other two girls Kasey was with before, who are now on their way over to them, and the rest of the workroom doing their own things. With a heavy sigh, he says, “Yeah, whatever. I don’t care.”

Cheeks burning, he sheds his jeans and replaces them as quickly as possible without resorting to his powers. He’s _positive_ he doesn’t imagine the looks from Kasey and the other two girls, though Marinette kindly doesn’t so much as glance up from her stitching on the jacket. With his shirt, he is awkward just because they’re in public. He _lives_ with Marinette. He doesn’t care if she sees him shirtless. It’s hardly the first time. He’s seen her in nightclothes, too. More modest than him without a shirt, to be sure, but the principle of the matter is the same. That said, he does endeavor to always wear pants. This is awkward for _every_ reason, so he’s thankful that Marinette respects that enough to not ogle him.

“Oh! Sam, Louise!” Kasey exclaims, waving at the two new girls. “Meet Marinette and Jon! Guys, these are my friends.”

Marinette nods politely again to the girls. “Good to see you, Sam. Nice to meet you, Louise. Oh, Jon, uh, apologies in advance.”

Jon chuckles. “No worries, Marinette.” He understands that she’s going to have to be a little handsy with him. When she’s working on a shirt or jacket, that’s a lot less awkward than pants, but it’s just what she has to do to make sure they fit properly. Jon knows this has to happen. It would probably be _more_ awkward if they were alone in their apartment than in a studio surrounded by other designers and models doing similar things. So, he just sends his own greetings to the girls and lets Marinette get to work.

Sam is a striking lady, with sharp features and a general aura of power that would intimidate lesser people than Jon and Marinette. She prowls around them, and pokes at the shirt and jacket on the table. “So, what are you working on, Marinette?”

“Nothing special.” She answers. “Yet. Just sizing.”

Sam hums and her eyes travel to Jon. “You must be something special, for such an accomplished designer to be planning something like this for you.”

Jon shrugs. “Nah, not really. She’s a good friend. And she likes to give gifts to friends. Even when they insist they’re not necessary.”

Marinette rolls her eyes at him. “I told you, you don’t know that I’m doing it for nothing. That’s the point of a surprise! Maybe it’s for your birthday.”

Jon chuckles and leans a little towards Kasey. “That’s like the third time she’s mentioned my birthday, so it can’t be for my birthday.”

“Or maybe that’s what I want you to think.” Marinette says through some pins in her mouth.

“As I said.” Jon says. “She’s so much smarter than me.”

Louise, a stocky, kind-looking girl gives them all a toothy grin. “Aw, you’re so cute! Marinette’s really lucky to have a boyfriend like you!”

“Boyfriend?” Jon blinks dumbly, then shares a look with Marinette. “Aha, oh, no, we’re just friends. We’ve been rooming together for a couple years now, so we’re pretty close. Not dating, though.”

“O-oh!” Kasey says. “So, you’re single?”

“Mhmm.”

Louise grimaces and fiddles with her mousy hair. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Nah, don’t worry.” Jon says airily. “No harm done.”

“Speaking of boyfriends,” Sam says suddenly, “I heard you’re dating Adrien Agreste.”

Marinette’s face scrunches up like she’s eaten a lemon. “I am? What about it?”

“Oh, nothing.” Sam says. “It just must have been a blessing to you to have been with such an accomplished model for so long as you were starting out.”

Marinette tenses, Jon can feel from the pull of the fabric, though she doesn’t show it outwardly beyond that. “His advice was helpful, yes, though I was never lucky enough to get his father’s critique except for one contest before we ever got together.”

“Hm. I’d consider _that_ lucky, considering what he was up to behind the scenes.”

Marinette takes a deep breath. “Gabriel is a horrible man, but he does have an eye for fashion. Unbiased, his critique would still have been valuable.”

“I’m sure.” Sam says.

“And for your information, Adrien and I broke up almost two years ago. How does this feel, Jon?”

Jon moves a little again to get a feel for it. They’re more fitted than any pants he usually wears, tapered all the way down to the ankle. “Huh. Not a fit I’m used to, but it’s comfortable.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to be.” Marinette teases. “I’ve seen what you wear. I’m just making sure I’ve got my bases covered, this won’t necessarily be the fit of anything I _do_ make you. Anyway, if they’re good for you, you can go ahead and change back.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jon chirps, shedding the pants as quickly as he can while not messing up the pins and slipping his jeans back on before he gets too self-conscious.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your breakup.” Sam says earnestly. “That’s such a shame.”

“It just didn’t work out.” Marinette shrugs. “It’s in the past.” She seems casual about it, almost dismissive, but Jon knows how much she loves Adrien. He puts his hand on her shoulder, just as a small gesture of support. Marinette smiles at him and quietly shrugs him off.

“Wait, you dated Adrien Agreste?” Kasey gasps. “What happened? Oh, no, was it because of everything around him after his dad was…”

“No.” Marinette says. “We just drifted apart, is all. We’re still friends.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

Sam eyes Jon up and down. “You don’t think he was jealous, do you? I mean, in another country, with you rooming with a cute guy… I wouldn’t blame him.”

“I broke up with him, actually.” Marinette says. “And no, he wasn’t jealous of Jon.” She sighs. “Look, no offense, but I really don’t want to talk about a relationship that’s been over for two years. It’s ancient history. Adrien and I are friends. That’s all there is to say.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.” Sam says sweetly. “It’s just with all this news about Jagged Stone, you’re a pretty hot topic right now.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Sure.”

“Hm.” Sam returns her gaze to Jon. “You’re single, though? How’s a guy like you still single?”

Jon nervously looks over to Marinette. “Uh… no reason, I guess.”

“Oh, come on. You must have people throwing themselves at you. You could pick anyone you want.”

Jon sees Marinette narrow her eyes at Sam, Kasey duck her head and turn to Louise, who pats her back consolingly, and Sam herself step in close to him. Not close enough to be _weird_ , weird, but close _enough_. Jon chuckles sheepishly. “Nah, that’s not true. I’m nothing special.”

Marinette silently arches her brow at him, as if to say, “Really?”

“Honestly, I haven’t given much thought to relationships. I suppose my not looking for one is probably why I never had one.”

Sam’s eyes go wide. “Never?”

“Nope!”

“Oh, you poor thing. You’ve _never_ had a girlfriend?”

“Nah, but I don’t really care.” Jon says honestly. “I mean, I’ve never even had a serious crush.” He pauses, then cringes. “Well, except for that one _really_ embarrassing one on Damian.”

Marinette makes a strange, strangled sound that distracts him from how Sam and Kasey recoil. “ _Damian_?!” Marinette exclaims. “Seriously? The Damian I’m thinking about?”

Jon can feel his cheeks burning. _Should not have said that._ Marinette still hasn’t met Damian, aside from the time he showed up in their apartment in hero uniform, but it isn’t that hard for her to piece together that Jon’s childhood friend Damian is the hero that Superboy was partnered up with for so long. She’s not a fan, since he’s notoriously unfriendly especially when they were younger. She trusts Jon that he’s a good guy, she says, but she also says he’s “a real piece of work” which Jon… can’t exactly disagree with. According to her, she likes him well enough, but he understands why the thought of having a crush on him is startling to her. “Hey,” He says. “I said it was embarrassing.”

“You’re gay, then?” Sam asks carefully.

“Bi, actually.” Jon says. “And in my defense, Marinette, Damian can be pretty cool.”

She snorts. “Big _can be_.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t be so hard on him. You haven’t even had the chance to meet him properly yet.”

“From your stories about him, do I want to?”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover. We were kids, back then. He’s better now.”

“And yet _now_ isn’t when you have the crush on him, is it?”

Jon blushes despite himself. “… _Touché_ , Marinette.”

She giggles. “Seriously, though, when _am_ I going to meet him?”

Jon recalls Damian’s call just a few weeks ago and sighs. “Probably sooner than you think. I don’t even see him all that much these days, but I was on the phone with him earlier. I’ll tell you more about it later.”

Marinette nods, knowing not to push for information in public. It’s Louise that interjects with, “Wow, it’s super cool how confident you are about it! I wish I could be as casual as you.”

Jon smiles at her. “What, being bi? Honestly, I just got really lucky. I’ve got some of the best parents in the world, so I never really had to worry. Plus, it’s thankfully rare now that you find someone our age that has a problem with it. I know, um…” The memories press down on him as always. There are worse tragedies he’s seen, but that doesn’t erase the very personal nature of those. Or the pain that they cause. “I know a lot of people in bad situations. So, I’ve always been thankful for mine.”

Louise nods sympathetically. “I know what you mean. My parents ended up being okay with me, but I have friends who weren’t so lucky.”

Jon understands, and true to form for him immediately takes to Louise. She’s a mousy little girl, shy-looking and fidgety, and by the nature of queer solidarity, she’s already his new best friend. “What do you do? You a fashion designer, too?”

“Oh, no.” Louise shakes her head vehemently, as if frightened by the very idea. “I’m studying textile development and marketing.”

“Really? That’s sounds interesting.”

“It is! Though, I admit I’m more interested in making textiles than I am the marketing side of it all.”

Jon hums in agreement. “Oh, I feel you. I’m in anthropology, but I’m mostly interested in culture. I still have to take biology classes, though.”

Louise actually perks up. “That’s really cool! One of the things I really want to do is figure out more sustainable ways to make textiles. With materials and processes that don’t harm the environment so much. I’d _love_ to take some biology classes, through that lens.”

“You know, that would be pretty cool. It’d be fun to study history and see if we could learn anything from how they used to do it. I know fabric was really expensive for a long time because it was all made by hand, but there might be some neat little tricks people used to use that could help today.”

“Yes!” Louise bounces with excitement. “We can learn so much from history! What do you think abou-”

“Hey, Louise?” Sam interrupts her, tapping on her phone. “It’s about time for class, isn’t it? We should probably get going.”

“O-oh! Right!” Louise ducks her head. “It was nice to meet you, Jon! I hope we meet again soon!”

“Yeah, you too!” Jon waves eagerly as she turns away. “Don’t let me keep you from class. Bye, Kasey, Sam.”

“Bye, bye, Jon! It was _so_ nice to meet you! See you later, Marinette!” Kasey grins ear to ear as she waves back.

“I’ll see you later, Jon.” Sam says calmly. “Marinette.”

The three girls take off, leaving Jon alone with Marinette again. Marinette shakes her head and starts leading the way out of the building. “Sorry about that.” She says. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to join us.”

“I don’t mind.” Jon says. “They seem nice!”

Marinette chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so. You seemed to get along with them.”

“Yeah.” Jon agrees. “Sam is kind of… forward, though. She kind of grilled me on my love life, didn’t she?”

Marinette stares at him for a second, and then laughs loudly. “Oh, Jon, she was flirting with you. Kasey was, too. Didn’t you notice?”

“…No?”

She snickers. “No wonder you’ve never had a girlfriend. Though, I suppose if teenage Damian was your type, that might be an indicator, too.”

“Okay, lay off Damian at _least_ until you meet him.” Jon rolls his eyes. “He’s a cool guy. And we _were_ partners. I think you can relate to _that_.”

“My partner was a homeschooled dork who didn’t know smooth if it hit him in the face. Yours was tween wrath embodied in a traumatized emo. I think I get to tease you a _little_.”

Jon tries not to laugh. He really does. If he laughs, she wins, and he is trying his best to defend his best friend. But still. It’s more justified than her wording makes it sound, but it _is_ true.

He can’t help cackling nearly all the way home.


	11. Don't you turn like Orpheus; just stay here.

“Wait, shut up, _Wayne_?! Like, _Wayne Enterprises_ Wayne?!”

Jon grins nervously. “…Surprise?”

“You’re telling me tween wrath Damian, _your_ Damian, the Damian I’ve been making fun of for _months_ , is Damian _Wayne_?” Marinette shrieks, pulling at her hair. “Oh, my god. He’s a hero. The Waynes are the Gotham heroes. I’m going to- I’m going to go die now.”

Jon sighs. “I did say you’d meet him sooner rather than later.”

“And he’s on his way here?!”

“In hindsight, I should have given you more warning.” Jon admits.

“You think?!”

“In my defense, though, Damian didn’t say anything for certain until like, right now. He only said his folks were interested in you, and I figured he’d give me more info more than ten minutes before he decided to visit.”

The doorbell rings, and Marinette sends Jon a glare as she starts towards the hallway. Unbothered, he’s right on her tail. She’s quick to open the door and greet their guest but stops short when she finally gets the chance to really look at him.

The only other time she’s seen him is back when he showed up in full hero gear, and the mask coupled with Marinette’s instant response to remove herself from anything involving heroes means she didn’t get a very good look at the guy. But here, his black hair is silky and neat, his sharp features cast a striking image that matches what she knows of his personality, and this close to him, she can see the green in his eyes – a deep color that captures one’s attention.

Marinette smiles for him and introduces herself. (“I know.” He says, offering no introduction of his own until Jon pointedly clears his throat and makes it obvious that he’s not going to move out of the doorway until the formalities are met. Marinette doesn’t actually mind, but she appreciates Jon’s dedication to politeness.) Then, she backs up and gestures for Damian to enter the apartment. When he heads straight for the living room, Marinette takes the opportunity to lean close to Jon and whisper. “He’s cute. That crush makes so much more sense now.”

“Shut up!” Jon hisses. “He doesn’t know!”

Marinette hesitates and looks at Damian’s retreating back. “Generally, or about him specifically.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Him specifically.”

Marinette giggles. “Understood. Let’s not keep him waiting.” She emerges into the living room after Damian and immediately gestures for him to make himself comfortable. “I made cookies.” She says, pointing out the plate on the coffee table. “Help yourself.”

Damian frowns suspiciously at her and the cookies for a moment before slowly reaching out to take one. He nibbles quietly on it, not offering any critique or compliment, watching as Jon and Marinette make themselves comfortable in the room as well. Jon takes the couch with Damian, but only after pulling a chair from their dining table for Marinette to sit on.

“So, Damian.” Marinette says. “Jon’s told me a lot about you.”

Damian nods. “He speaks of you often, as well. I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

“Do I?” Marinette raises her brow at Jon. “Is that something I was supposed to be told?”

Jon gives her that nervous grin he has when he knows he’s in trouble. Damian just eyes that impassively. “I suppose he didn’t tell you.”

“Hey!” Jon protests. “You didn’t tell me! You said _maybe_ like, a _month_ ago. How was I supposed to know what you’re planning?”

Damian, pointedly unimpressed, clicks his tongue sharply. “Miss Dupain-Cheng. I’ve been sent to represent my family in a business proposition.”

“A business proposition?” Marinette echoes, unimpressed. Business with the Waynes is a big deal, of course, and internally she’s can feel the familiar excitement and panic prick at the inside of her ribcage, but the way Damian talks, so cold and steely and unemotive, it makes it feel a lot less exciting than it should be. It sets her on edge, and paired with all the stories of young Damian she’s heard from Jon… well, business with the Waynes may be a big deal, but Marinette is already doing well. It may very well be more trouble than it’s worth if Damian isn’t significantly better than he’s appearing. (Who knows what the rest of the family is like, if this is who they send to talk to her?) “What kind?”

“A commission. My father endeavors to support up-and-coming names in many industries. Those less fortunate than us who have to work much harder to find success in business.” _Excuse me?_ Marinette’s brows shoot to the sky as she looks Damian up and down again. It doesn’t _look_ like he’s trying to offend, but then, rich people rarely do. It’s all veiled with people like this, always with some other goal.

When Marinette was with Adrien, she met many people who talk like this. Backhanded insults laced into self-aggrandizement meant to sound charitable. It pissed Marinette off back then, and she doesn’t much like it any more now. “Your name has recently come to his attention.” Damian continues, as if he hadn’t said anything amiss. “And he asked me to approach you, since we have a mutual friend.” Marinette crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, just waiting for him to finish. “Several of our family are hosting a Christmas gala. Would you be able to make their outfits for the event?”

Marinette shares a look with Jon, who shakes his head. She just rolls her eyes. “Depends. Are you asking me because of my work, because I’m friends with Jon, or because I’m so much ‘less fortunate’ than you?”

Damian blinks at her, lending credence to Marinette’s theory that he just legitimately doesn’t think about the words out of his mouth.

She sighs. “Normally, someone who talks to me like that would be on a block list.”

“Talks to- Like _what_?” Damian asks.

“Like I’m beneath them because I’m not wealthy.” She says simply.

“Hey, Marinette…” Jon interjects. “Don’t you think that’s a little far?”

Marinette shrugs. “What part of all that about how _charitable_ and _generous_ his family is was necessary to ask for a commission?” She keeps her voice casual, like she’s only talking to friends. It’s easy to do, even with Damian, since she already feels like they kind of are. It makes it easier to be honest up front, too. “It’s posturing, and condescending. I dated a famous rich guy for six years; I’m beyond sick of that. Plus, and I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this, Damian, I wouldn’t if we weren’t already _sort of_ familiar with each other through Jon, but there’s something about you… you’re just so… punchable. I don’t hold it against you, but it makes you sound more condescending than I think you mean to be.”

She says it to annoy him. To test him, because she’s heard stories and she wants to know if she can really stand him. The stories are old, and she knows very well how he’s changed (from Jon’s perspective, at least) but Damian still looks severe and cold, so she’s wary. For his part, though, Damian curls his lip in a strange expression between rage, confusion, shock, and something else that looks strangely like admiration.

“Anyway,” Marinette says airily, “I feel like, given our _mutual friend_ , you should at least give me the basic respect of talking to me like a normal person. I know this is technically the first time we’ve met, but that blatant dishonesty is really annoying, even to strangers.” Marinette rolls her eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you never actually mentioned my work. You just gave me platitudes about how great your father is and pointed out that Jon’s probably the only reason my name is on your radar. Understand why someone might take offense to that?”

Damian narrows his eyes at her. Jon chews nervously at his nails, eyes darting between the two of them. The air is tense and thick until, finally, Damian cuts through it. “Very well. I see your point.”

“Good.” Marinette says, a little surprised that he actually concedes. “Now because of our mutual friend, and because I don’t actually think you meant to offend, if you want to talk about a commission, we can.” She sighs. “I apologize if I stepped over a line. With how much Jon talks about you, I feel like I know you, if only a little.”

Damian purses his lips. “No, it’s quite alright. I should have chosen my words better. I had no intention of offending.”

“Wow!” Jon says with false cheer. “Look at that! We’re all friends, already!”

The corners of Damian’s lips twitch into what might almost be called a smile. “I see why you care so much about her. She is certainly…” His eyes find her and drill into her like he’s looking for her innermost secrets, “impressive.”

“Right?” Jon says, more relaxed this time. “I keep telling everyone she’s the coolest!”

Marinette feels her cheeks warm. “So, you’re here about a commission. A Christmas party? I assume a formal one. How many outfits?”

There’s a strange look in Damian’s eyes that Marinette can’t quite decipher, but Jon is easy to read. As they talk and conversation flows more smoothly, more like the friends they are, Jon gleams with obvious ecstasy. That his two friends are getting along is clearly cause for celebration for him. Considering it took over two years for them to reach this point, Marinette isn’t all that surprised.

As for Damian himself, Marinette thinks she actually likes him. Jon is right that he’s more mature than his old stories about the pair of them make him sound. Though, Jon is, too, so Marinette really should expect that. He’s an acquired taste, but Marinette understands why Jon is friends with him. She thinks, if Damian wants it too, she could be good friends with him as well.

* * *

Kasey finds Marinette in their Knitwear class. Marinette has to admit, she’s not too keen on spending much time with the other girl. Kasey seems like a perfectly nice girl, of course, and Jon seems to especially like her friend, but Marinette has gone two years now at FIT with barely more than acquaintances outside of Jon.

It’s never lonely, though. She tries hard to keep in touch with her friends in Paris and between calling all of them during the day (before it gets too late in Paris) and spending nearly all her evenings with Jon, and studying, of course, which she devotes the bulk of her energy to, she just doesn’t need or have time for a bunch of friends on campus. As such, she tends to treat her classmates professionally. She works to establish a relationship, but only a professional one.

It just feels wrong for now, right after her name gets recognized, to be the time her classmates suddenly invest themselves in friendship with her when they’ve been crossing paths for two years already. It feels insincere. She doesn’t trust it.

“Even if she is motivated by your fame,” Wayzz tells her, “that does not mean we should assume she is not earnest in wanting to be your friend. Perhaps the news simply drew her attention to you, and she saw someone she wanted to be friends with.”

Marinette thinks that awfully convenient for Kasey.

Unfortunately, though, or fortunately for Kasey, they start group projects, and everyone needs a partner. Kasey is the first to ask her to team up, and Marinette respects that Kasey is a good student, so she lets it happen.

As they work together on campus and at Kasey’s place (she’s roommates with both Sam and Louise, Marinette learns) Marinette struggles with a familiar feeling. Kasey is so eager and cheerful and friendly that it’s hard to imagine her having ulterior motives for befriending Marinette. She’s just so earnest that Marinette keeps forgetting she’s supposed to be wary.

In a lot of ways, it reminds Marinette of Kagami. Kasey and Kagami are obviously near polar opposites, but Marinette feels like she’s befriending Kagami again when Kasey worms her way into her friendship. It’s a strange mix of growing closer, _wanting_ that friendship, and stubbornly telling herself that she shouldn’t accept that friendship.

With Kagami, it was because she was a rival. Kagami was a serious threat to Marinette, romance-wise. Adrien openly admits even when they’re together that he and Kagami were more than just friends before he fell in love with Marinette. Even when he was crushing on Ladybug, that was the case. And before she and Kagami became friends, Marinette didn’t think she’d ever be able to get along with her. Simply because, as love rivals, they shouldn’t.

That’s a dumb, ridiculous, middle-schooler train of thought, of course, but it was Marinette’s reality at the time. She’s embarrassed it caused her to treat Kagami with such hostility when that wasn’t necessary from the start.

With Kasey, though, Marinette just can’t convince herself of the other girl’s sincerity. A lot of people will use others just to get a step up, and a lot of them will do it with sweet smiles on their faces. Marinette knows the ones that try to use Adrien, she knows the ones that try to use Kagami, and Chloé. She’s seen her own friends attempt to do the same, albeit without malicious intentions, with Lila.

Even if Kasey is a genuinely kind and wonderful friend, she only talks to Marinette to start with because of Marinette’s fame. Will she abandon Marinette the moment she’s not helpful to her anymore? Will she push Marinette to use her connections to Kasey’s advantage? Those are questions only time can tell, but Marinette isn’t eager to even give time the chance. The answers don’t matter when the questions themselves hurt.

Despite it all, though, Kasey is legitimately so passionate about fashion, so dedicated to improving herself, and so open and friendly that Marinette starts thinking of her as a friend regardless.

“That’s so _cool_!” Kasey bounces on her toes behind Marinette. She isn’t silent on the approach, but even so Marinette takes a breath to calm her nerves from Kasey coming so close while her back is turned. “Are you going to make it?”

Marinette shifts so that she’s more facing Kasey and looks down at her sketchbook. “I’m thinking about it.”

“For yourself?”

Marinette looks again at the design and laughs. “Nah, leather isn’t my style.”

Kasey’s eyes glitter. “For Jon?”

“Not his style either.” Marinette says. “He’d pull it off, though.” _Even if it’s just once, it might be worth putting him in a leather jacket. Or leather pants._ She snickers to herself, imagining his face if she gives him leather pants. _Oh, that’d be worth it. He’d just look at me like, “Is this really what you think of me?”_

“Aw, that’s a shame. He’d definitely pull it off.” Kasey says, sitting down next to Marinette. “Then who would it be for?”

“A friend back home in Paris.” Marinette says. “Kagami doesn’t usually wear leather, either, so it’d still be an exploration for her, but it’d suit her better than Jon or me. I probably won’t make it, though. I can make something better.”

“I think it’s cool.” Kasey says, peering over her shoulder at the design. “What would you change?”

Marinette hums, examining the sketch as well. “If I were committing to making this for Kagami, then… I’d change the silhouette just a bit – shorten this here, bring this in tighter, maybe a belt? Yeah, I like that.” Marinette starts sketching in a corner of the page, smaller, just a rough idea to show Kasey her modifications. “And a lot of the details, like these accents here, would be altered slightly. I might even make it red, but I’d have to think more about that.”

Kasey’s jaw hangs open as she watches the new design take shape. “I would never have even thought of that.” Kasey says softly, mostly to herself.

“Well, you don’t know Kagami. I made those changes with her in mind. If you were designing for one of your friends, you’d think of things I wouldn’t, too.”

Kasey purses her lips for just a moment before she nods resolutely. “You’re right. But that’s so impressive what you can do so quickly! I like this design even better than the original! How long have you been designing?”

“Oh, since I was little.” Marinette giggles. “I used to upcycle my dolls’ clothes all the time, then I started doing it for my own clothes. What about you?”

Kasey grins a little awkwardly. “Honestly, I only got into it in high school. It started with expanding my pockets, then I realized I could make a lot of little alterations that make my clothes better, then I was tailoring my clothes, and now I’m here. Honestly, I’m a much better seamstress than designer. I thought I’d get better here at college, but I don’t think I’ll ever be as talented as you.”

Marinette pats Kasey’s arm. “Don’t be silly. You just said I’ve been designing for what sounds like several times as long as you have. I just have more experience. If you keep at it, you’ll be a brilliant designer. You’re already good.”

“You think so?” Kasey smiles openly, a friendly and earnest and happy smile that warms Marinette’s heart.

“Of course, I do. I mean, look at your dress today! You made this, right?”

Kasey gasps and stands and twirls with a giggle. “You could tell?”

“I could! And I love it! It’s so you!”

Marinette is suddenly tackled, but she just laughs along as Kasey exclaims, “You’re the _best_ , Marinette! I’m so glad we’re friends! I can’t believe I thought you were intimidating.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette almost chokes on air at the very thought. “You thought _I_ was intimidating?” She stares incredulously at Kasey and gestures to her own tiny frame. “Me?”

“Yes!” Kasey keeps their arms looped together and leans into her shoulder even as she talks. “You’re always so focused in class! And when you’re working. It’s like you’re in and out, no distractions. Plus, I noticed right away how talented you are. You just always had this air of… of… ah…” Kasey frowns and taps her chin with her free hand. “Of, uh, purpose, I guess? Like you’re only here for your education, so even though I always wanted to be friends with you, I assumed you’d just brush me off.”

Marinette is a bit taken aback by Kasey’s confession. “I admit, I had no idea people saw me that way.” Marinette says, carding her fingers through her hair. “Back in Paris, I was always considered one of the most approachable ones out of my friends. To the point where it honestly sometimes got annoying because everything would always go through me even when it didn’t need to.”

Kasey giggles. “Now that I know you better, I _totally_ understand where that comes from. You’re just the sweetest person I’ve ever met!”

Marinette fights off the embarrassment from the compliment and shakes her head. “Thanks. You’re sweet, too.”

* * *

“And then you just twist it all together, and it sort of acts like a needle, but there’s no bulky eye that gets in the way.” Jon says, leaning close to Louise on a bench, showing her something on his phone.

Louise’s eyes are wide. “And that’s a boar bristle?!”

“Yeah! Apparently, a lot of things can work. They’re not a replacement for metal needles, of course, but since you’re not actually poking the holes with the needle itself, it doesn’t need to be so firm.”

“That’s so clever! I had no idea they did that!”

“It really is very interesting.” Sam says, leaning over Jon from his other side to look. “You’re so smart, Jon. Where’d you learn this?”

Jon giggles. “YouTube. Then I did some research. I thought Louise would like it.” He nudges Louise playfully with his elbow, making her laugh loudly.

Marinette watches him fondly. She’s considered friendly, at least back in Paris. Most of her friends are more or less brought together by her. They’ve even explicitly called her the center of the large group, but when she watches Jon so effortlessly get along with people, she’s still amazed by him.

Maybe it’s because her ticket to people’s hearts is usually food and gifts, whereas he just charms their socks off with pure personality. Someone so magnetic like that is a special thing.

Marinette and Kasey are separated from the other three just a little, all together in a park at Kasey’s insistence. Marinette and Jon are both well on top of their schedules, so they find no reason to refuse. Kasey sheepishly tugs at Marinette’s sleeve and smiles. “Hey, Marinette… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

The weather getting colder only makes Kasey’s retreat into herself more pronounced as her jacket starts to swallow her. “What is it?” Marinette asks.

Kasey flushes red and twirls her hair. “Ah, well, uh… Jon. Sam is…”

Marinette glances over to the bench where Sam is leaning into Jon, respectfully not touching him, but shifted to face him and leaning forward and laughing and batting her eyelashes and… otherwise is just kind of being obvious. “She likes him?” Marinette guesses.

Kasey covers her face. “Yes. She wanted me to ask you if you’d help set them up. Just a date! See how it goes.”

Marinette sighs heavily, remembering her _collège_ days. _Never again._ “Look, Kasey…”

“It’s okay! I understand. I thought you might be interested in him yourself, so I figured it was a long shot.”

Marinette frowns. Saying she’s interested in Jon doesn’t bother her, exactly – she certainly doesn’t react like teenage her would have – but it still strikes into her unexpectedly. But there’s more curious about this situation than that. “Why’re you the one asking me? If Sam wants that, she should ask me herself.”

Kasey ducks her head again. “I- I mean… Maybe, but I’m closer with you than she is. She just figured she’s got the best chance this way.”

“Does she?” Marinette purses her lips. Jon isn’t stupid. He’s smart. Maybe not the _most_ adept when it comes to people flirting with him, but he’s not completely clueless. “Weren’t you pretty interested in him when we met?”

Kasey flushes a brilliant crimson and hides once more. “I- well, I- uh… Sam likes him. I’m not going to get in the way.”

Marinette watches the three, entertained a little by how Sam tries to capture Jon’s attention. Unfortunately for her, when he is focused on her he’s just perfectly friendly and polite as always. Hilariously, it’s when he’s focused on Louise that he actually looks engaged and interested. Marinette can see even from some distance away how frustrated Sam is getting from his behavior.

Internally, Marinette tenses and promises to herself to keep watching closely. If Sam escalates out of frustration and crosses the line past Jon’s boundaries, Marinette _will_ step in. She knows Jon can handle himself, but even if she’s not a hero, even if she won’t ever throw another punch in her life, she’s still a guardian. She’s still a protector, and Jon is her best friend. Even just watching this has Marinette itching to go insert herself between the two, to give Jon some distance from her. He’s not overtly uncomfortable, which is why Marinette doesn’t do so, but he’s clearly not interested. Marinette hopes Sam gets the hint.

Frankly, based on this image alone, Marinette will sooner help set Jon up with Kasey than Sam. Though, in her defense, Sam _is_ still respectful about how she flirts, even if she doesn’t back off. Marinette can respect it; she’s not told to back off, after all. Marinette just doesn’t respect it enough to set up her best friend with someone whose advances he’s so obviously unreceptive to.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything to get in the way of to me.” Marinette says calmly.

Kasey squeaks. “Sam would be angry with me if I tried to make a move. I can’t do that to her.”

Marinette shrugs. That’s Kasey’s decision, ultimately. Marinette isn’t going to encourage more girls to flirt with Jon regardless, since he openly admits to not being interested in a relationship in the first place. Plus, Marinette does understand Kasey’s position. It’s like Marinette and Kagami, back in the day, vying for Adrien’s love. Kagami couldn’t give up despite wanting to stay friends with Marinette, and Marinette felt the same way.

Luckily for them both, Marinette won in the end, and Kagami is no sore loser. They are still great friends to this day because they didn’t let that battle get between them or let themselves get angry at the other. Marinette still looks back on that, occasionally, and wonders if she would have been so graceful had she been the loser. At the time, Marinette has to admit she probably would not have. She likes to think she and Kagami would still be friends in that alternate universe, but the truth of the matter is that she just can’t be sure. Marinette was young then. Young and stupid with love, and that made her do some things she’s still ashamed of.

If Sam really will get angry at Kasey, then Marinette thinks that’s a mark on Sam, and not a mark of a good friend. They’re not kids barely old enough for romance, they’re in their early twenties. A true friend, like Kagami, competes and accepts a loss with grace, not forces their friend out of the competition to start with. It _is_ complicated, though, and Kasey’s decision is a respectable one, too. If it’s done out of concern for Sam, and not out of fear of Sam’s anger.

Though for a normal person, one who has not been through everything Marinette and Jon have, perhaps fear of anger is respectable, too. Marinette decides to be patient with that.

Something about Sam ticks the wrong boxes for Marinette. She’s respectable, refined, and nice enough, and she’s never given Marinette reason not to trust her, even if she can be a bit nosy and forward at times, but even so she rubs Marinette the wrong way. Kasey and Louise don’t, just Sam, which is odd, since Marinette would expect that any malintent would be group wide.

_Unless… No._ Marinette shuts down that train of thought quickly. She refuses to theorize about how her friends will stab her in the back. She refuses to see enemies in every shadow. That’s not her life anymore.

She’s just paranoid. Remnants from her days as a hero. Still, she’s got a close eye on Sam. Paranoia may be bad, but caution is the only reason she’s still alive. And Sam is still flirting with Jon.

“I can tell her you’re interested in him, though.” Kasey says quietly. “I’m not sure she’ll back off, but she might. It’s pretty clear that he’s most interested in you.”

Marinette just laughs at the very idea. “No offense, Kasey, but I’m not interested in schoolyard drama. Jon and I aren’t a thing, and even if we were,” she looks pointedly to the three on the bench once more, “I’m not threatened by her. Last time I dealt with dumb love drama like this was, god, over eight years ago. I like to think I’m more mature now.”

Kasey looks between her and Sam with thinly veiled shock for a moment before she sighs. “I guess you’re right. It’s silly to fight over a boy, isn’t it?”

“Definitely. Never let a boy come between you and your friends.” Marinette nudges Kasey, smiling. “I learned that way back then. That time I mentioned. My rival at the time was also my friend, and even though the boy we liked ended up choosing me, she never once let it come between us. _I_ was more awkward about it. That’s an example I want to follow.”

“Me too!” Kasey exclaims. “She sounds like a really cool girl!”

“Oh, she is. You’d like her. We’re still great friends.”

“Now I want to meet her!”

The two share a laugh and a connection that convinces Marinette a little more that Kasey really is alright. She actually seems embarrassed to have been focusing so much on all of them liking Jon and Marinette knows simply from how she’s stepping back for Sam that she’s not the type of girl to prioritize a crush over her friendships. It’s reassuring.

It’s also self-sacrificing, which itches under Marinette’s skin like a mosquito. It’s Kasey’s cross to bear, though. None of Marinette’s business.

“Nah, Marinette’s a much better cook than me. Right, Marinette?”

Marinette comes closer to Jon and the others again when he calls out to her. “I’m a better baker, but you’re no slouch for cooking.”

“I didn’t say I was _bad_.” Jon rolls his eyes. “I’m saying you’re better!”

Marinette laughs. “I’m not going to agree with you, you know. You’ve gotten a lot better since we met.”

“Because you taught me!” Jon insists.

Shaking her head, she ruffles his hair. “Don’t let this goofball be modest.” She says to Sam and Louise. “He’s an awesome cook.”

Jon pouts, frowning up at her through his disheveled bangs.

Marinette winks at him. “What? You may not be able to measure to save your life, but you’ve got good taste.”

“I can measure just fine if I’m not using your weird scale! You’re the one that insists on European recipes.”

“It’s literally two buttons, Jon. It’s not difficult to use.”

“It’s the principle of the matter!” Jon sticks his tongue out at her. “I have to represent my country!”

Marinette dramatically raises her head to the sky and sighs, “Americans.”

Jon starts giggling uncontrollably, which sets all the girls off as well. When that dies down, though, Sam asks, “So what is Paris like? It’s one of the fashion capitals of the world, you must have had so much inspiration.”

Marinette hums in agreement. “I was there during all the Hawk Moth business, not sure how well known that is outside Paris…”

“I know it.” Sam says, eyes turning soft. “I try to keep up with Paris for the fashion, and it came up a few times.”

“Right. The city itself is beautiful, and I have a lot of great memories there, but overall, it’s pretty much like living anywhere else. At least, New York. I do miss the architecture, though, but the big city is the big city. Now, country boy Jon might have some different tales to tell.”

Jon laughs. “I think I told you this our first year, but everything’s so noisy here. Like do New Yorkers ever shut up?”

Sam snorts. “Not a chance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Only thing I really miss is the stars, though. When you’re out in the country, you can actually see the _galaxy_. It’s amazing.”

“That sounds beautiful.” Sam says, leaning close to him again.

“It is! I like to sit in this tree on the farm and just look out at the stars. Oh, Marinette! You should totally come visit one of these days! You’ll _love_ it there!”

Sam makes a face, but Marinette just laughs. “It sounds nice, but I don’t get much time back in Paris as it is. My friends would be mad at you if you dragged me away during break, too.”

“Hey, if it means I get you for longer then they can just be jealous.”

Despite herself, Marinette blushes at the comment. Sometimes Jon just says the cutest things without even thinking about it. “You’d love Paris, too, you know.” She says. “The history there is all in the architecture. I can already see you geeking out.”

Jon gasps. “Is that an invitation? Can I come to Paris?”

Marinette sighs because she knows if he really wants to go, he can just fly there. It’s not so simple or quick as hopping over to Metropolis or anything, but it’d still be faster than a plane and Jon wouldn’t have to pay for airfare. It’s surprisingly reasonable for Jon to visit her during the holiday. And on her part, she supposes she does have access to the horse Miraculous if she really wants to. So, she humors him. “Maybe someday we’ll have a little exchange. It would be cool to see your farm.”

Jon grins from ear to ear and just about squeals. “You agreed! No takebacksies! This is going to be _awesome_!”


	12. I'm no Superman. I hope you like me as I am.

Jon is fairly certain Marinette is only joking when she agrees to visit each other during the holidays, mostly because agreeing is as far as any planning for it goes. They don’t even go as far as saying they’ll do it this year, or this summer, but as far as Jon’s concerned, he’s got one summer and two holiday seasons left with Marinette before they’re just living their regular adult lives.

And he certainly doesn’t intend to let her go after college – no, he’s going to ask her to move in together permanently. Maybe they’ll even stay in New York. Or Jon will move to Paris with her. It doesn’t matter yet, they still have a year and a half before they graduate anyway, but either way Jon has no intention of letting graduation separate them.

To that end, they have their entire lives to visit each other’s homes. Even so, Jon really wants to invite Marinette back to the farm at least once for holiday. It’s criminal that they still haven’t enjoyed more than a video call for _any_ holiday thus far. Granted Christmas was in the middle of their drama both years ( _Not this year,_ he resolves.), but they still had other opportunities!

Unfortunately, she’s always in Paris during the breaks, and Jon doesn’t want to take her away from her friends. Spring break is out, as are the breaks between semesters, so no summer or winter breaks. Jon might be able to visit her, then, especially in the summer with months without any real holiday to call the family together for, but Marinette will be treasuring the time she has with her friends in Paris, so he can’t invite her back to America and interrupt that.

But Paris is far, and there are smaller opportunities to take advantage of. Jon’s mind goes almost immediately to Thanksgiving. The break is only the end of the week, so Marinette doesn’t actually go back to Paris for it, especially since they don’t have Thanksgiving where she’s from, so she has nothing to celebrate in the first place.

Which makes it _perfect_ , because it’ll be Marinette’s first real Thanksgiving! The Kents _love_ Thanksgiving, and Jon is no exception. It’s just such a warm, feel-good holiday full of family, great food, and thanks for all that they have. And Jon has a lot to be thankful for, not the least of which that Marinette is in his life and hasn’t given up on him after their chaotic first years together.

He can’t even imagine where he’d be if Marinette wasn’t his roommate. If he had come to New York two years ago and found himself in this little apartment with Jesse instead of her, where would he be? Still hiding, no doubt. From the hero life he left behind, from his own instincts to protect, maybe even from his lineage. If he didn’t have Marinette to work with, would he have found his ideals? Would he know yet what he wants his life to be? Would he ever have had the example to fix his ideals around, or would he still be struggling to reconcile Justice and Peace?

The _Girod_ is certainly not an easy standard to live up two. Eleven virtues, all embodied in one man. Jon still thinks it’s impossible to truly achieve, but they offer him guidance, a path to follow now that he’s cast aside the one his dad put in front of him. _Marinette_ is that path, and the _Girod_ is just the handrails. What he finds living with Marinette, normal or not, is what he wants. He’s certain of that. The _Girod_ guide him further if he stumbles or gets distracted, but the path is and always was, from the moment he arrived in New York, Marinette.

No offense to Damian, but she’s his best friend. Jon will follow her to hell and back, and he knows with absolute certainty she will never ask him to compromise his peace for her – that’s why he can so easily charge down the path hand in hand with her. They made a promise, to themselves and to each other. A promise that no one else in Jon’s life, no matter how much he loves and trusts them, would ever make. A life of peace. To find that together. He trusts her, and he does his best to live up to her trust in him, keeping her on the path she tells him she wants just as she does for him.

Jesse is a great guy, but Jon will never find _that_ with him. If Jon had come to New York and roomed with him instead, Jon’s sure they’d be great friends, but… Jesse could never be the rock that Jon needs to keep him grounded. Very few people could. In fact, it might just be her.

When Jon itches to fly, all he needs to do is look at Marinette, and all that desire disappears. He’s content on the ground, if Marinette is with him. That is something extraordinary.

It’s selfish of him to want more, but he does. He wants to share more. He wants to have those loud, boisterous party experiences with her, those intimate family moments of holidays with her, he wants to take her flying, not off to any goal, just to the horizon, to see what she’ll do so high up in the sky. It’s selfish, but it’s also what he wants. He can’t just not try, not without sacrificing something dear to him. And he’s not a hero anymore, so he’s not sacrificing a thing.

So, while Marinette is out working on her commissions for the Wayne’s Christmas party, Jon starts making dinner and uses the time, also, to call his mom.

“Hi, Jon!” His mom coos through the phone. “I wasn’t expecting a call today. Are you cooking?”

“Getting started, yeah.” Jon smiles to the image of his mom on the phone, perched on the counter so he has his hands free. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I’m always available for my boy.”

Jon gets all his pots and pans in order before focusing on the ingredients themselves. “So, I actually called to ask you something.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“You know my roommate, Marinette? She’s from Paris.”

“Yes, you talk about her a lot.” Jon flushes despite himself. His mom sounds so teasing about it, and Jon can’t help but let the implication fluster him. “What about her?”

Jon can’t seem to look at the phone as he draws in his breath for his next words. He focuses instead on preparing dinner. “I was wondering if it’d be alright if I asked her to have Thanksgiving with us. They don’t have Thanksgiving in Paris, so she’s usually just hanging out here alone when I go back. I thought it’d be nice to invite her.”

A glance tells him his mother has that knowing smirk that she always has when she knows more than she should. Jon just pointedly focuses on the vegetables and tries to ignore how his cheeks burn. _It’s not like that._ “That’s a wonderful idea, Jon.” His mom says. “We’d love to have her over.”

Jon breathes out a sigh. “Awesome.” _Now I just need to ask Marinette if she even wants to come._ “I’ll bring it up with her when she gets home.”

“Oh, is she busy?”

Jon nods. “Damian hired her to make his family’s outfits for their Christmas party, so she’s been working a bit later on that. She’ll be home in time for dinner, though.”

“That’s good. I hope she isn’t neglecting her studies for Damian.”

Jon snorts. “Don’t worry, I’m making sure she studies. Lord knows she’s told me to study enough times. I got to repay the favor.”

His mom laughs. “It sounds like I should thank her. I’m glad you two are there for each other.”

Jon smiles down at the vegetables on his cutting board. “Yeah. Me too. I’m lucky to have ended up with her.”

“No doubt about that.” His mom says. “Now the only question is: when we introduce her to your grandparents, will it be as your roommate, or as your girlfriend?”

“Mom!” Jon fumbles for a moment with his knife and shrinks a little as he gives up and just throws the vegetables in the bowl they’re meant to go in. “It’s not like that!”

“Are you sure?” His mom asks calmly. “Because the last time I’ve seen you this smitten with someone, it was Damian Wayne back in-”

“We don’t talk about that!” Jon only burns hotter at the mention of Damian. To himself, he whines, “Marinette teases me about that enough.” Louder, after clearing his throat awkwardly, he says, “And I’m not smitten!”

“Oh, honey. You’re basically married.”

“We live together.” Jon counters. “The domestic stuff is just being decent roommates.”

“I’m not talking about cooking for her, Jon. I’m talking about how you’re always talking about her. Even Damian noticed you always bring her up.”

_Do I?_ Jon thinks back and realizes that his mom is totally right. That’s why Sam looks so irritated with him when they talk. Every time she tries to flirt or compliment him, he’d… well it must look to her like he deflects to compliment Marinette. He thinks he’s just being friendly and sharing a pretty major part of his life. _Maybe I should be a little more careful next time I talk to her._

But that doesn’t mean anything. “She’s my best friend!” Jon says. “Of course, I talk about her.”

“Just like when you couldn’t shut up about your best friend Damian, right?”

“Mom!” Jon whines, drawing the word out.

“Okay, okay, I’m only teasing. You should be ready for it, though. You bringing a girl home will definitely set your grandparents off.”

Jon groans loudly. That’s probably true. Unfortunately, there’s not much he can do about it. He’ll just have to suck it up. Besides, there are much worse things in life than being mistaken for Marinette’s boyfriend. He and Marinette know what they’re doing, mostly, and they’re not kids anymore. They can handle assumptions. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

* * *

“Are you excited?” Jon bounces in his seat, leaning over to Marinette, who is pressing herself close to the window to watch the farmland pass them by.

“I am!” Marinette’s eyes sparkle as she takes in the scenery. It’s just flat and honestly pretty drab, but she’s looking at it like a whole new world. Jon supposes that it is, to her. “I’ve never celebrated Thanksgiving before. And it’s so pretty out here! I feel like I can see for miles!”

“You can.” Jon’s dad says from the front seat. “On clear nights, you can even see the light from Metropolis.”

“That’s amazing! Thank you all so much for inviting me!”

“It’s our pleasure to have you, Marinette. Jon talks about you all the time. We’re all very happy to finally meet you properly.”

“Yes! I’m so happy to have this chance to get to know you, as well!”

Marinette is practically glued to the window for the entire drive, and frequently takes pictures with her phone of the speeding vast emptiness surrounding them. Wide fields of dirt or low-lying crops with the occasional tree or copse (usually as windbreakers surrounding property) is the exact opposite of exciting for Jon, but for a girl raised in Paris who has never been in the American countryside, it’s a completely new experience. Jon wagers she’s never seen so much sky.

If the way she clutches her sketchbook and scribbles in it without hardly looking down at it is any indication, it’s inspiring, too. That makes Jon happy. That’s part of the reason he wants to invite her back to the farm. A completely new setting for her is sure to spark some creativity. _Just wait until she sees the stars._

When they roll off the asphalt and onto the packed dirt path leading to their home, Marinette loses none of the awe. In a hushed whisper, straight into Jon’s ear as she grabs his arm, she says, “I’ve never been on a dirt road before.” Which, now that he thinks about it, makes sense, but is such a little thing he would never have realized had she not told him directly.

Then they spill out of the car and Marinette gasps, staring at the horizon uninterrupted by the Kent home. Jon smiles at his parents and gestures for them to go on. He’ll wait with Marinette for as long as she wants to revel in the sight, ordinary as it may be to him. “Jon!” She grabs his arm tightly, hugging it unthinkingly. “It’s… I can see _forever_. It’s like being on top of the Eiffel Tower, except I’m on the ground. And the air! It feels so different!” She giggles breathlessly. “I can’t believe you live here.”

Jon smiles fondly down at her, warm from her touch. “It’s cleaner out here, right? Hard to find fresh air like this in a city.” He agrees. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She looks up at him and smiles, an ear to ear grin that shines like the sun. “Me, too. Thank you again for inviting me.”

Jon’s stomach flutters in an interesting way that makes his cheeks burn. Sharing little things like this with Marinette is probably his new favorite thing in the world. Seeing the inspiration in her eyes, how her excitement reminds him to appreciate the view he’s long considered uninteresting. Just because the view is a whole lot of nothing doesn’t mean there’s nothing to appreciate. The emptiness itself is as awesome as the greatest of cities.

Jon gives Marinette a brilliant smile and says, “Come on, let’s get inside. I’m sure my grandparents are getting impatient to meet you.”

“Oh! Of course! Sorry for taking so long.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Marinette separates from him and starts towards the house. Jon opens the door for her, smiling because he can already hear movement in the kitchen. No doubt that’s his grandma, getting started on the pies.

“Ah, there you are!” Jon’s grandpa says with a glint in his eyes as he examines the two. “We thought for a moment you’d gotten lost on your way in.”

“Ha ha.” Jon rolls his eyes. Those dad jokes will never be funny. Or, never _not_ be funny? It’s a weird balance. “This is my friend Marinette.” He nudges her gently to introduce her.

“Of course, of course. It’s nice to meet you, Marinette. Jonno’s told us all a lot about you.” Marinette politely shakes his hand as he says, “I’m Jonathan, or just Grandpa if you’re under this roof.”

Marinette makes an odd expression that strikes Jon as somewhere between amused and uncomfortable. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kent.”

Leaning close to Jon, as if to speak as an aside but not lowering his voice nearly enough for it to matter, Jon’s grandpa says, “Ah, she’s too polite for you, boy.”

Jon wants to retort, but he’s honestly not sure whether to be offended at the implication that he’s anything but a gentleman. He knows his grandpa is just teasing him, so he doesn’t take serious offense to it, but still.

“Do my ears deceive me? Is she here?” Suddenly, Jon’s grandma comes out of the kitchen, brushing her hands on her apron, making a beeline for the two youngest. She immediately gives Marinette a hug, and holds her still to examine her. “Oh, you’re just the prettiest little thing! Please, make yourself at home. I was just getting started on the pies for tomorrow.”

Marinette stands a little straighter at the mention of baking. “Can I help?” She asks.

Jon interjects to say, “Marinette’s parents are bakers in Paris. She grew up in a bakery.”

Marinette flushes a little and fiddles with the turtle Miraculous around her wrist. “I- yes, that’s true, but truth be told I don’t have much experience baking pies. Not the kind you have here, anyway. I’ve always wanted to try, but they’re not as common in Paris as they are here. I never had reason to.”

“Will you be able to handle using American measurements, though?” Jon teases.

“Of course, I can. Because I’m not a baby who refuses to try new things.”

“You literally insist our recipe book is written with European measurements.”

“No, I just take the effort to convert things for myself. If you want to convert the recipes into your measurements, then you’re more than welcome to.”

Jon makes a face. “But that’s so much _math_.”

“Then don’t complain.” Marinette pokes him playfully. She looks back to the adults, as if remembering they’re there, and composes herself again. “Ah, but, may I please, Mrs. Kent?”

“Call me Martha, honey. And you don’t have to help cook. You’re a guest here.”

“But I enjoy it!” Marinette says eagerly. “And I want to. Jon’ll help, too.”

Martha hums thoughtfully. “The more the merrier, then. Let’s find you an apron.”

As Martha leads them to the kitchen and the rest of the adults start talking amongst themselves, Jon is pulled closer to Marinette so she can whisper to him. “Your grandparents are adorable!” She says, grinning giddily. “Their accents are so cute!”

“So’s yours.” Jon says back. He feels satisfied when she blushes at the comment but is quickly brought out of their little conversation with the aprons his grandma hands them.

They fall into the groove of preparing the pies for a while, conversing lightly as they do. Marinette and Martha get on like a house on fire, mostly talking about recipes, which Jon watches fondly. Apple, classic American. Pecan, necessary for Thanksgiving. Pumpkin, also a staple. Pies spend a lot of time in the oven, but between bakes conversation never lulls. If things in the kitchen die down, someone from the living room will pop in and liven things up again. Jon is even dragged outside at one point to fix the tractor, and Marinette follows out of self-admitted fascination.

Jon explains what he’s doing as he does it for Marinette’s sake, but he’s pretty sure it goes mostly over her head. She probably doesn’t know much about machinery like the tractor in the first place, so he doesn’t expect her to grasp the details. All he knows is that he needs to wash the oil off his hands, and better yet take a whole shower (it’s late November, so he’s not exactly sweaty, but the inside of a tractor isn’t clean, no matter how hard he tries to avoid getting covered in filth) before he goes anywhere near the kitchen again.

It’s only after Marinette assures him she’ll be fine alone with his family for a while that he does so, though. She’s talked to his parents before in passing over the phone, but ultimately today is the first time she’s really met any of them except him. He doesn’t want to just leave her feeling uncomfortable without him around, and he notices that she gets a little quiet while he’s working on the tractor, so he’s worried. But she insists and practically pushes him into the bathroom herself, so he has little choice but to relent. It’s not like he wants to stay filthy, anyway.

When he steps out of the shower, warm and refreshed, he realizes it’s getting late. So, he throws on some pants and goes to ask Marinette where she’ll be most comfortable. “Unfortunately, my grandparents have the guest room.” He tells her, guiding her to his own room. “So, you can take my bed. I can sleep on the floor, or on the couch in the living room if you’d rather have the space to yourself.”

Marinette reels back at the very idea. “I can’t take your bed from you, Jon! I can sleep on the floor, it’s fine.”

Jon chuckles good-naturedly. He knows what she’s doing, and he’s not about to let her. “Not a chance, Marinette. You’re a guest here. You get a proper bed. I’m not budging on that.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “I’m not kicking you out of your bed!”

“You’re not. I’m offering it.”

“Jon! I’m serious, I’m no- woah.” A slow grin stretches across Marinette’s face when Jon opens the door to his room. “This is your room?!” She gasps, following his gesture to step inside.

It’s not hard to guess what she’s looking at. The lights are still off in here, and her head is tilted back, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars all over his ceiling and the free space on his walls. Jon checks out the window, just to see that there are clouds covering the real stars. _Shame. Hopefully that clears up tomorrow. If she’s impressed by this, just wait until she sees the real thing._

Truth be told, he doesn’t think much of those glow-in-the-dark stars anymore. He put them up with his dad when he was little and never bothered taking them down unless he needed space on the wall for whatever reason. There’s so many of them, it’d just be a hassle to clean up if he did, and they don’t bother him, so he doesn’t need to. They’re just part of the background of the room. He’d actually forgotten they were there until Marinette points them out.

“Yep.” He says. His eyes search the stars, finding a set of them at the wall opposite his bed, where he’s facing when he’s lying in it.

“It’s so pretty.” Marinette says softly. “And it almost looks like… are those real constellations?”

Jon laughs, mostly to himself. “Yeah, I had a pretty big astronomy phase as a kid. You can imagine why.” Marinette giggles in agreement. “I found some star maps and, together with Dad, put all these up.” He looks fondly at the dim, glow-in-the-dark stars for the first time in a long time. Maybe years. It’s hard to believe, when he looks at them with the appreciation he used to, that he had ever lost that wonder.

The true sky just outside his window is better still, and he never abandoned his wonder for that, but this is… this is special, too. It’s nice to be reminded of that.

Jon looks at Perseus at the end of his bed and smiles. Initially, Jon wanted to put Corvus there, where he can most easily see it, since from Earth’s perspective, that’s where Krypton is located, but Corvus is a southern constellation so even when it is visible in the real sky outside here, it’s low down and doesn’t work well as a starting point for the rest of the sky map of his room. And Perseus, the hero, is just as good. Better, even, since Jon never connected to Krypton, but to heroes? That’s what Jon wanted since he was born.

(And maybe he also read _The Lightning Thief_ at just around the same time his astronomy phase got into full gear. Sue him.)

It’s funny in hindsight. If he wanted it a little less badly, hadn’t tried so hard to reach it, maybe he would have been more ready when he did. Maybe be wouldn’t be turning his back on it now. Maybe now would only be his start.

But pointless hypotheticals get him nowhere. He _likes_ where he’s at now. He likes being with Marinette and working together towards their mutual life of peace. It gives him meaning that he doesn’t need to fill with heroism, and it gives him perspective, so he can gaze upon Perseus and smile, even if it’s a tad weak. He wouldn’t change a thing about his life, if it has led him to this moment.

Even if he does still have to argue with Marinette over who gets the bed. (He wins, in the end, and smugly pulls a spare pillow and blanket out to put on the couch.)

* * *

Thanksgiving goes about as expected. Marinette fits in seamlessly with the family and insists on helping with the cooking. There are a few too many of them to all be in the small kitchen at once, but they agree to take turns and split the work of making each dish. While it’s his parent’s turn in the kitchen, Jon’s grandfather has to coax Marinette into throwing a football with them to get her to abandon her spot at the oven.

It’s a lot of laughing and running after the ball, since even though Marinette is coordinated and has a mean arm, she’s literally never thrown a football in her life until today. She’s awkward with it and always apologizing for every wildly inaccurate throw, but it’s still a nice time overall.

Aunt Kara shows up, too, and she immediately adores Marinette. She fawns over her almost as much as she fawns over Jon, which is saying something. For her part, Marinette takes it in stride, eagerly striking up conversation and spending so long just chatting that Jon’s grandfather eventually gives up on including the girls in their game of catch altogether.

Eventually, they gather for the meal itself. Jon makes sure to sit next to Marinette and watches her closely. She seems a bit awkward, maybe even startled, when Martha says grace, but she relaxes again quickly, noticing Kara waiting politely but clearly not participating, and then fully relaxing at the “Amen.” Then, they eat. It’s not all that different from any other meal, except they’re sharing it with more people.

They eat, they watch a football game on television, they laugh, they chat, and it’s all normal. It’s family. And Jon couldn’t be happier.

He keeps an eye on the sky, though. He still wants to show Marinette the stars. The real ones. So far, so good, and when the sun finally goes down, Jon sighs with relief.

He catches Marinette with her sketchbook, sitting on his bed as she hums a tune to herself and sketches. Reluctant to interrupt her, he waits for a moment until she looks up and smiles at him. “Want to see something really special?” He asks, holding out his hand for her.

Marinette grins widely and takes it. He squeezes her hand gently and guides her to the door. His parents absolutely notice them leaving, but aside from some pointed looks they don’t interrupt. That works for him.

They step outside and he barely manages to tell her to look up before he’s interrupted by her gasp. “You weren’t kidding…” She breathes, fixated on the stars.

“Right?” Jon asks, equally breathless. He grabs her other hand, so he’s holding both her hands, and looks up with her. More stars than he can count stretch out before them. The entire night sky is a light show just for them, more extravagant and more beautiful than any city, in his opinion. It’s something that just can’t be replicated, no matter how devoted a twelve-year-old may be. Sometimes, Jon sees this, the soft glow of the galaxy, a gentle band promised to the inky sky, and wants nothing more than to fly up into it. Today, the starbursts between his fingers and Marinette’s is more than enough for him.

“Thank you for showing me this.” Marinette’s voice is small, vulnerable, and when Jon looks closely, he can see the sparkle of the stars in her eyes. They’re a little too wet, but Jon smiles knowing she’s just overwhelmed. It truly is a beautiful sight.

“Want to get a little closer?”

Marinette blinks the wetness away – no tears fall – and looks strangely at him. “Closer? What do you…?”

Jon lifts just a foot off the ground, never letting go of her hands but leaning forward so as not to pull her feet off the ground.

Marinette grins from ear to ear and agrees. “Hold on tight.” He says ensuring she has her arms firmly over his shoulders and he’s holding her just as tightly himself. She’s pressed up against him, head on his shoulder, eyes on the stars.

Jon swears he will never forget the look on her face when he rises into the air. As the house and the trees fall away and all that’s present anymore is her, him, and the constellations. It’s a look of awe, of wonder and bright, bright light, like the stars themselves. The universe he spends so long gazing at out here is written on her face, its constellations in her freckles and its burn in her eyes. There’s so much beauty all around them, but all Jon sees is her.

He leans back just a little, drifting in that direction, and then with a cheeky smile, he spins abruptly. Marinette squeaks and clutches him tighter, and then glowers cutely at him when she calms down. “What?” He asks, innocently.

“Don’t do that!” Marinette pouts.

“No?” Jon gives her his best puppy eyes. “You don’t want me to go…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Over,” Jon dips her, giggling at her small shriek, “sideways,” he spins again, and Marinette starts laughing along with him, “and under?”

Truthfully, playing around too much _is_ dangerous. Marinette can’t fly, after all, but Jon lays back in the air, letting Marinette lay atop him, essentially using him as a platform. She smacks his chest lightly. “You’re mean.”

“I can show you the world!” Jon starts singing, loudly. He and Marinette both know he can sing better than he does, but being off-key only makes them both giggle harder. “Shining, shimmering, splendid!” He doesn’t know what comes over him that makes his boisterous, off-key yell give way at the next line, but it does. Instead, he barely whispers it. It’s just a sigh in the wind. “Tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?”

Marinette blushes deeply, but laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jon chuckles. “But you’re stuck with me.”

Marinette hugs him tightly, rests her head on his chest and sighs contentedly, and Jon swears his heart skips a beat. “Thanks, Jon. This has been… there are no words. I’m so glad we met.”

Jon smiles softly. He has to resist the urge to kiss the top of her head. “Hey, that’s what Thanksgiving is about.” He takes another breath, but thinks better of it and instead says, “Hold on, let’s get down from here. I’ll show you one of my favorite places.”

Marinette nods silently against him, so he flies slowly over to his favorite tree and sets her down on his perch. They sit together, watching the stars, and Jon says, “I’m so thankful to have met you, you know. I… you gave me direction when I didn’t have any. You showed me what life without being a hero can be, and you helped me figure out what I _want_ it to be. I hadn’t thought about that before. I always assumed, even later on when I hated it, that I’d always be Superboy. Or… or that I’d eventually be Superman.

“Marinette, I… I can’t imagine life without you. I have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, and you’re… _so much_ of it.” He sighs. “I wish I knew how to tell you how much it means. This doesn’t feel like enough, but… _thank you_. Thank you for sticking by me. Even when you found out I was Superboy, even when I doubt myself and whether I can really live peacefully- hell, even that, even looking for _peace_ is because of you. If not for you I might still be chasing some unattainable ‘normal’ that I’ll never reach. I… It’d be an exaggeration to say you _saved_ my life, but… you definitely changed it. For the better. I’m happier now than…” He lets out a weak chuckle and looks away. “Well, yeah. That’s what I wanted to say. I’m just… really thankful that you’re a part of my life.”

He sits there, cheeks burning, looking for constellations in the grass, for a long time. Then, Marinette’s melodic voice, strained ever so slightly, makes him jump. “I’m thankful for you, too.” She says. “When I left Paris, I left behind everything I knew. I was so scared, I- I didn’t have any safety net. But then I met you, and… I felt like things would be okay. I was an ocean away from home, from my friends, from everyone and everything I loved, but you made me feel at home.

“I don’t- I don’t know about normal, but you helped me find the life I want, too. _This_ life. You stuck by me when I reacted… _really_ immaturely and shut you out for so long. You stuck by me when I turned my back on all this and fought as Ladybug again- don’t… don’t say anything about that. Please.” Marinette takes a big shaky breath as Jon obediently shuts his mouth. That… that is a wound healed by their promise, but a wound nonetheless. Jon can only hope to continue nurturing it as they have been, rather than picking at it and reopening the thing. “You helped me reconcile being the guardian with the life that I want. I… I never thought I could do both. It never even occurred to me. If you hadn’t been here, I would… I would definitely have given Chat the guardianship and forgotten everything. Eventually, at least. In that sense… I think you _did_ save my life.”

Jon looks over at her, at the constellations in her freckles, barely visible in the starlight, at the burn of the sun in her eyes, the gentle promise ring of the galaxy crossing her irises. Marinette worries her lip and ducks away. “So… this is my first Thanksgiving, but… the thing I’m most grateful for is you. Thank you for being a part of my life.”

Jon’s eyes water. He can’t help it. He knows he’s important to Marinette, just like she is to him, but to hear her spell it out so plainly casts a spell over his heart. It’s hard to breathe. All he can do is stare at her.

She looks up at him, too, and they share a small smile. A tiny, barely-there thing but one full of so much warmth and love that it’s unmistakable. She grabs his arm, leans on his shoulder, and they share that moment, sitting in the tree, gazing at the stars on the horizon, their touch like a hearth warming them from the onset of the chill of late November.

She looks up again; he can’t recall when she gets so close. She smells like the pies they baked last night, somehow, but also everything else. Like Thanksgiving, like gratitude, like her. He can feel her breath on his lips, lighter than the gentlest breeze. It takes him a moment to realize he’s leaning in, too.

That realization makes him jump. Marinette reels back, surprised, and they’re both sitting there, faces burning, not looking at each other.

_Aw, hell._ Jon beats himself up inside because he knows this is his fault. He doesn’t even know why he jumps. It just takes him by surprise. How stupid of him to react that way! To startle himself with something so… so… Especially because it’s not as if he doesn’t want it. He does! He _wants_ to kiss her! _Hell, I want to kiss her._

And when the hell did _that_ happen?!

He needs a moment.


	13. To save the world or go to work, it's the same thing to me.

Marinette almost kissed Jon. She would have, had he not jumped away at the last minute. And bubbling up inside her is this dirty feeling she hasn’t had for a while now. A slimy loathing that fills her and tries to drag her down into it.

Not this time. Marinette will not fall prey to that feeling again. Yes, she almost kissed Jon. Yes, it’s a sort-of, almost surprise to her just how willing she is to do so – how eager, even. Yes, he pulls away at the last moment, clearly not ready, or not willing, to kiss her.

Yes, she feels like an idiot. Like, despite how fresh her realization that her feelings for him may not be entirely platonic, she’s just been rejected. But he _does_ lean in in the first place. He does give her that touching speech about how important she is to him and look at her like she has the galaxy mapped out in her face. And the last thing she’ll believe is that all of that was a _lie_.

Marinette feels that self-loathing, the childish hatred that tells her that there’s something wrong with her, that it’s stupid of her to think Jon will ever like her like that. She feels it, and she grabs it by its metaphorical balls and tells it to go die.

Marinette is the guardian of the Miraculous, former hero of Paris, and a grown twenty-two-year-old woman. Little embarrasses her more about her past than her ridiculousness around Adrien. She’s not going to let another crush turn her into that little girl again. She’s especially not re-adopting the self-destructive habits of that little girl.

This is Jon. Her roommate, her best friend. The man she fully intends to spend the rest of her life with, romantically or not. The man who _just_ finished spilling his heart out to her about how much he loves her, even if he doesn’t use those exact words. The man whom _she_ just finished spilling her heart out to about how much she loves him.

Besides, they’ve been through this before. They learned from the first time and put that lesson into practice the second. They have to communicate.

So, even though Marinette feels a little stupid and a little childish, and even though she’s awkwardly shuffling away from him on their perch on a thick tree branch, she waits. He’s the one that retreats from the kiss, so she’s hoping he’ll say something first.

And he does. “I- I, uh…” Jon clears his throat and hugs himself. “I’m… sorry. I- I didn’t- I wasn’t- I wasn’t thinking. I just… you’re… so beautiful. And I… I love you so much.”

Marinette is surprised at the confession. Even though he says it like a question, it makes a familiar warm embarrassment and affection blossom within her.

“Oh, God.” Jon covers his face. “I didn’t even realize. Oh, okay, um… I’m so sorry. I’m still processing.”

Marinette can see the weak, hopeless smile on his face mixed with the barely held together panic and frustration in his eyes and sighs. She can relate. She doesn’t feel all that different right now. “Do you need a moment?” She asks.

“Yes please.” He squeaks.

Marinette giggles and nods. “Me too.”

And she really does. People have been teasing her about or implying she likes Jon for a while now – basically since she broke up with Adrien, honestly, though it’s really picked up since last semester when they really got into a nice groove of living together and working to help each other and just generally all the domestic happiness they’ve found. And that’s fine. It doesn’t bother her. It’s embarrassing, a little, just because it’s not true – or it wasn’t – and more than a few times Jon is _right there_ to witness it, but he never makes it awkward either. He just laughs it off or ignores it if there’s no need to correct it, so Marinette ends up taking the same approach.

It’s easy. It’s comfortable. It’s nice.

And he’s cute, for sure. Those big eyes behind those glasses will surely be the death of her (she can never resist when he tries for the puppy eyes, but then again she’s weak to Adrien and Alya’s puppy eyes as well), and she may or may not have admired him once or twice.

It’s actually ridiculous how, despite having seen him in various states of undress, it’s his _arms_ that linger in Marinette’s mind. The muscles working as he leans over the tractor, the (disgusting) smears of oil and grime across his hands and arms, how they flex when he moves, it’s criminal. Marinette doesn’t think much of it at the time beyond appreciating his body (which is a perfectly acceptable thing for a friend to do, if Alya is any sort of standard), but now, after their egregiously romantic night under the stars, it all takes a new context.

_Honestly,_ Marinette thinks, almost pouting, _how can anyone expect me not to fall in love after that?_ She looks out to the horizon again, soaking in the sight of the stars, the faint glow of the galaxy so clear out here – she’s never seen that in person before. This is something she only gets to see because of Jon. This is something that Jon went out of his way to bring her to see.

And then he goes and tells her all that about how she’s changed his life and how thankful he is that they’re together and… yeah. If Marinette didn’t love him before, she’s basically legally obligated to at this point.

The dumbest part about it is that, based on how Jon himself is pulling at his hair, he didn’t even intend for tonight to be romantic. Hindsight is 20-20, Marinette supposes. And something she can see with perfect clarity is that whatever is going on between her and Jon, from this moment forward, is not simply friendship.

What exactly it is, though… is another story. Does she like him? Marinette does not struggle to say that yes, she probably does. But is she so bold as to admit such now? He says he loves her, but he’s still processing, too. She should let him figure himself out first before entering into this. She absolutely loves him, deeply and platonically, and it won’t do to misinterpret things before they get the chance to think it through for themselves, and then talk it out like the grown adults they are.

She needs to figure herself out, too. But she has to give him something. Something so that he’s not left hanging until they do have that talk, which will definitely be soon.

“Hey, Jon?” She says carefully.

“Mhmm?”

“I… I think I love you, too.”

Jon’s eyes snap to hers. There’s such a deep uncertainty in them, a hesitation that solidifies Marinette’s resolve that, though this conversation needs to happen, they’re both a bit caught off-guard by tonight. “But…” She says, “neither of us expected this, did we?”

Jon winces. “Uh… no.”

“I thought so. We’re going to need to talk about it.”

“I know!” Jon says quickly. “And I do! I want to talk about it! I just- I need to- I need to get my thoughts and- and- everything all in order first.” He sighs, and his pained expression turns away to face the grass. “I’m sorry. I know I need to-”

“Don’t apologize, Jon.” Jon shuts his mouth sharply at Marinette’s words. She touches his shoulder, and a relieved calm spreads through her when he leans into the touch. “We’re both caught off guard, and I don’t think either of us really know where our heads are at right now. So why don’t we take the rest of the break to figure things out? Just for a day or two, we’ll go on like we have been, as if we didn’t just… well _almost_ kiss. Take the time to examine our feelings, make sure this isn’t just… this stupidly romantic night.” Jon chuckles sheepishly along with her as he glances to the starry night sky. “Then when we’re back in New York and in our apartment and we’ve had some time to process it all, we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

Jon bites his lip and nods. “If you think that’s best.”

Marinette lets out a weak chuckle. “No offense, but I also just don’t want to have this conversation while we still have a several-hour car ride back home ahead of us. That would be… just unbearable if this makes things awkward.”

“I don’t want it to be awkward.” Jon whimpers. “I don’t want this to mess everything up.”

“It won’t.” Marinette assures him. She speaks the words with such surety only because she also needs to convince herself. But this is Jon. He’s… one of the very few things she truly does trust absolutely. They can make it work, even in the worst-case scenario. He’s _home_. “We won’t let it. No matter what, right? We’ll always be best friends.”

Slowly, the smile returns to Jon’s face, and the night feels so much brighter. “Yeah. For sure. Thanks, Marinette. I… I can believe when you say it. That’s another reason why I love you, I guess.”

_Wow_ , that still feels strange to hear. It does funny things to her heart, too.

* * *

Marinette sleeps on the issue. Last night, she’s caught up in the moment. She’s swept off her feet, figuratively and literally, by this place and by Jon, and she’s still only human. It’s easy to get caught up in those kinds of things.

Yet when she heads back out to the living room and spies Jon still slumbering on the couch, she feels a surge of warmth overcome her. It’s impossible to keep the fond smile from her face. Not that she tries.

_Yeah, I definitely love him, don’t I?_ The reassurance is steadying, bracing, but it also gnaws away in her gut. _I’m going to have to tell everyone._

Marinette retreats to Jon’s room once more and checks the time. _Alya will kill me if I don’t keep her updated on this. And Adrien…_ Marinette sighs.

“Are you alright, Master?”

“Wayzz,” Marinette sighs once more. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Ah, my apologies. But are you…?”

“I’m fine.” Marinette turns her eyes to the glow-in-the-dark stars in the room. The sunlight streaming through the window renders them to simple little off-color shapes, but they still bring to mind the real stars from last night. “I’m just worried about Adrien. It’s been a long time since we broke up, but…”

“I see.” Wayzz nods slowly, almost a bow. “You are in love with Jonathan.”

Marinette sits down on the bed and stares at her phone. There are strange butterflies in her gut, but they aren’t about Jon. How odd, that the next time she falls in love she would feel none of that frantic energy from the first time. “I guess I always knew this would happen.” Marinette says. “With someone, anyway. Since I broke up with Adrien, I mean. I knew we weren’t going to get back together. I still can’t be with a hero, not like that, but…”

“But you have accepted your role as guardian.” Wayzz says. “You have made progress. Do you wonder if you might accept him being a hero if you had more time?”

Marinette shuts her eyes. “Hard not to wonder.” It’s not quite pain that settles over her. Not quite that stinging hurt. It’s more of a cold dread, but even then, that’s not quite it. It’s the chilling, yet strangely reassuring embrace of the inevitable. A terrible thing accompanied by the relief that she no longer needs to wait for it, and that it will soon be behind her now that she can face it head on. It is… an odd feeling. “I was happy with him, despite everything else.”

“Sometimes, Mas- Marinette…” Wayzz says, “our paths through life are thrust upon us. Sometimes we seek them out. However, your free will to choose the path you want to walk is something that can never be taken from you. A good turtle is steady and constant. Take your time, choose your path, but do not falter when you walk it.”

Marinette worries her lip. “I understand.” She sighs heavily. “I know my path. My life is with Jon. I’ll… I’ll call Alya. I was going to tell her about Thanksgiving, anyway. She can help me with Adrien.”

Wayzz bows respectfully and hides again as she finds Alya’s contact. As she gets into the conversation with Alya, Alya can clearly see that she’s a bit off. She doesn’t interrupt, though. “I actually had a lot of fun.” Marinette says, concluding the story about the day. “It’s really nice to have a day to just remember to be thankful for what we have.”

Alya smiles gently. “Sounds like it did you some good.”

“Aha, I guess so. Um… at the end of it, Jon took me out to look at the stars.” Marinette laughs. “Alya, you’ll never believe the stars out here! Pictures really can’t do it justice; it’s _so_ beyond beautiful!” Marinette blushes and clears her throat and Alya raises her brow silently, letting Marinette spill the scoop all on her own. “And, um… we, sort of… _almost_ kissed.”

Marinette jumps and has to cover the speaker on her phone for fear that Alya’s shriek will be heard throughout the house. “Alya!” Marinette chastises her friend. “Don’t blow out my eardrums!”

“You kissed Jon?!”

“Almost! We didn’t actually-”

“Way to go, girl!”

“Alya!”

“Oooh, I want to hear every detail! The whole story, Marinette! Come on, a night under the stars out in the country? What did he say? What did _you_ say? Come on! Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Alya, calm down!” Marinette groans. “I’ll tell you everything, but first, I need your help.”

Alya sobers quickly, nodding to her through the camera. “Of course. What can I do?”

Marinette’s hands tremble as she holds her phone. She debates putting it down, because Alya can surely tell, but she decides against it. It’s nice to have something to clutch, even if she worries a bit that she’ll break the thing. “Add Adrien to the call?”

Alya sucks in a hissing breath. “Oh.” She shakes her head. “It’ll be okay, Marinette. He loves you, yeah, but he’s been ready for this. I promise.”

“I hope so. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I know, girl. Give me just a minute and I’ll have him here.”

Alya’s camera is jumbled around as she contacts Adrien, and not two minutes later the screen splits and Adrien’s beautiful face appears in another window. “Hi, Marinette! How’s Thanksgiving?”

Marinette smiles painfully at him. “Great! It’s been wonderful.”

“That’s great!”

“Actually,” Alya says, “Marinette was just about to tell me about the night she had with Jon.”

Marinette glares, mostly playfully, at her, but sighs and launches into the story. She starts from when he invites her outside to look at the stars and modifies only their flying stint to protect Jon’s identity. As she tells Alya and Adrien, Jon just drags her out into the field and convinces her to dance.

Close enough.

She keeps the exact details of their proclamations to each other under wraps as well, but she gives them both enough so that they have proper context for the almost-kiss.

“You like him.” Adrien says softly, fondly, when Marinette wraps up her story. She’s torn between being unable to look away from him and being unable to look at him, but she can see how gentle the look on his face is. “I’m happy for you, Marinette.” His eyes move from the screen for a moment, down, to the floor, and then he takes a breath and smiles. “You’ve clearly got _excellent_ taste in men, if I do say so myself.”

Alya snorts. “Shut up, furry.”

“Says you, furry! Furry rights!”

Alya makes a clearly forced serious face at the screen, probably to Marinette. “Adrien Agreste just said furry rights.” She deadpans. “Marinette, my love, my best friend in the whole world, serious question. Is this world blessed or cursed? Because I legit do not know anymore.”

Marinette shrugs, unable to fight her grin. “He has a point. You don’t have much of a leg to stand on calling him a furry, considering.”

“Hey, I never said I wasn’t! Have you seen some of that fanart of us?” When Adrien immediately clears his throat, blushing profusely, Alya adds, “The safe for work stuff! Get your mind out of the gutter, Agreste!”

“Anyway!” Adrien says loudly. “I’m proud of you, Marinette. You deserve this with Jon. He’s a good guy, and I wish you both the best.”

Marinette smiles, both at their antics and simply in relief. “Thank you, Adrien. That means a lot to me.”

“You heard the boy!” Alya says. “Go get your man!”

Marinette giggles. “That’s still not happening until we get back. And if he decides not to pursue it, it’s not happening at all. I just wanted to keep you updated, and… and ask Adrien if he’s okay with it.”

“We’re not together anymore.” Adrien says gently. “You don’t need my permission.”

“No,” Marinette agrees. “but you’re still important to me. There’s no way I could decide something like this without talking to you about it.”

“I’m honored.” Adrien says. “But seriously. Go get your man.”

There’s nothing Marinette can do in response but laugh. “If you insist.”

* * *

It is a lie to say that the last day of their Thanksgiving break isn’t awkward at all. All things considered, though, it goes smoothly. Kara, Marinette assumes she must be Supergirl, is intercepted by Jon the one time she looks like she’s going to approach Marinette about the strange atmosphere between her and Jon, and the next time Marinette sees the woman Kara has that knowing look that Lois and both of Jon’s grandparents seem to have from the moment they see each other in the morning after Marinette’s phone call.

If Marinette’s own mother weren’t so good at reading the room between her and her friends (and especially Adrien, even back when they weren’t together) she’d think one of them eavesdropped on her talking with Alya and Adrien. But no, this is just a family thing. They know from Jon’s behavior that he likes her, and they’re amused by this.

Marinette rolls her eyes at the whole display, but she does appreciate that they don’t try anything like her own mother might. They’re perfectly friendly, and wondrous hosts, but all their teasing glances and smirks are directed Jon’s way rather than hers, and, she thinks, mostly behind her back.

Poor boy.

Marinette assumes that her deal with Jon to talk about it when they get back to New York is spread throughout the family somehow. And she’s glad for it, even when Clark (Marinette still can’t quite believe that he’s _Superman_ ) gives the two of them a cheeky wink and a “Good luck” that implies a lot more than just luck on their exams when they’re dropped back off at their apartment.

Jon is nervous. Marinette notices even at the farm, but as they approach their door he only gets worse. He’s buzzing with energy while Marinette inserts her key in the lock. He taps his foot, wrings his hands, adjusts his glasses, fiddles with his hair.

Marinette barely manages to close the door before he exclaims, “Can we talk about it now?”

Marinette has to take a moment to form her response, just because the timing catches her off guard, but he’s looking at her with such earnest hope in his eyes that even if she had other plans, she’d ditch them. “Of course. Let’s go to the living room.”

They sit at their tiny dining table, a scene that calls Marinette’s mind to when he was waiting for her last year, after winter break when she had to fight Mayura. She winces at the thought. In the end, they made their deal with each other, and Marinette is glad they did. She’s glad for where they are now, and that promise is a strong tie binding them together, so she can’t _entirely_ regret that whole incident.

Even so, she hates herself for allowing such weakness. To go back to Ladybug, to come so close to passing the guardianship on to Adrien… She’s very lucky, and very thankful, that Jon is here for her.

“You are just inscrutable sometimes.” Jon sighs heavily, sinking into his chair. “You know that? I spent all day yesterday and today trying to figure out if you really like me back, but I’ve got _nothing_.”

Marinette blinks for a moment at his pouting, then at the words, and then she laughs. “I’ve been called a lot of things, Jon, but _inscrutable_ has to be a new one. Most people think I’m an open book.”

“Most people are _wrong_.” Jon crosses his arms with a playful huff. “All I saw was you laughing at my folks teasing me the whole time.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” Marinette says honestly. “It just reminded me of my parents whenever I had Adrien over back when we were kids. That’s all. I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

Jon tries valiantly to maintain the pout of his lips for a few more tough seconds before he breaks into a smile. “I know. But… seriously, about that night in the tree…” His eyes find the table as he takes a deep breath. “I meant every word, and I still mean it now. You’re… one of the most important people in my life, and whether we’re- you know- dating or- or not, I know for sure I want you in my life. For the rest of my life.” He ducks his head, making a face. “And that’s coming on really strong.” He mutters. “Tone it back, Jon.”

Marinette covers her mouth as she giggles at him. “Don’t worry, Jon. I feel the same way. This life, this… post-heroism life… I want you in it, too. I did even before Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jon breathes shakily. “But, uh, _about_ Thanksgiving. I… I really do like you, Marinette. Like, I love you. Like… That was definitely _not_ just a heat of the moment thing. I’ve been thinking a lot about it and… the more I do, the more I regret not kissing you then when I had the chance.

“I’m really sorry I pulled away. I was just overwhelmed, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until we were already like _right there_ and I just… I kind of freaked out.” He groans and covers his face with his hands. “Oh, God, this is embarrassing.”

Marinette smiles at him, still nervous and jittery about this whole thing, and a strange calm overtakes her. Adrien approves, Alya does, too, Jon is someone she can see herself spending the rest of her life with. Hell, she fully intends to keep rooming with him after university. Maybe in New York, or maybe Metropolis, or maybe he’ll even like the idea of moving to Paris, Marinette isn’t sure about that, yet, but she knows that if he wants to be there, there is absolutely a place for him in her future.

In fact, if he doesn’t want to be there, she’s quite sure her future will feel very empty. It would be quite an endeavor to fill that void. So, she tells him the truth, in hopes of calming his nerves a little. “I love you, too, Jon.”

“You do? You do!” Jon beams, so openly giddy that Marinette can’t help but reflect his joy. “That’s great! I mean- uh… Oh, God, now what?”

_He really is silly when he’s flustered, isn’t he?_ “Now, we prepare for finals.” Marinette says. “Just because we love each other doesn’t mean we can slack on our exams.”

Jon flushes red and nods. “Yeah. Right. Of course, but…”

“We’ll go on a date soon. If you’re okay with that?”

“Yes!” He squeaks, nodding eagerly. “Totally okay with that!”

Marinette giggles. “Good.” She stands. “Now we still have to get everything back in order before classes start again, so if that’s all, I’m going to go double check that I have all my assignments squared away. I know there was at least one thing I still need to do.”

Jon seems to regain control of himself and nods. “Yeah, I’ve got work to do, too. Then more studying.”

“There’s not much time between now and finals, is there?”

Jon cards a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that’s how it is. Thanksgiving and Christmas are just too close, I guess.”

Marinette shakes her head. The last two years, she’s used Thanksgiving break to study more, so she’ll have to catch up this year, even if it’s just a few days. “Well, I’m going to get started. Good luck, Jon.” She puts one hand on his cheek, smiling at how he immediately turns red, and kisses his other cheek. Barely a ghost of a kiss, but the moment her lips touch his cheek she can’t help but linger just a moment, and it’s so much more intimate than common _bisous_.

Not that she often gives _bisous_ over here in the States, but it’s still nice to ensure Jon feels the distinction. Especially when he turns all red like that. The blush covers his ears adorably, so Marinette just laughs and ruffles his hair before she heads off to her room to get started on studying.

There’re only a couple weeks until finals. Honestly, Marinette will have to be clever if she wants to plan a date before winter break. Then again, she supposes Jon _can_ come to Paris during break. It’s long enough that there won’t be too much issue if he takes a day away from home to spend time in Paris.

She’ll have to think it over.

* * *

She and Jon really have bad timing, Marinette thinks. Aside from their miraculous meeting in the first place, everything seems to happen at the worst moments. Like, why on Earth do they decide to fall in love two weeks before winter break?

Now, Marinette is juggling not only finals and Christmas gift plans, but _also_ date plans. Thank the powers that be for Jon stressing over his own finals and agreeing that date night can wait. Not that that stops them from having quiet nights in watching movies on their sofa, of course, those just aren’t really “dates” so much as what they always do. With slightly more cuddling. (Nothing too far, not yet, but Jon slings his arm around her shoulders and she leans on him and it’s a lot different in their hearts, if not quite so much in practice.)

She’s using a rare time of peace, with finals later this very week, to get just a little work done on a present for Jon. It’s nothing that can’t be done in Paris, of course, and in fact Marinette intends to get a lot of progress done on the plane, but the repetitive stiches help her center herself and she’s hoping this meditative work will give her a bit of an edge on her studying tonight.

“Marinette! Hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you here! What’re you working on?”

So long as no one interrupts her, that is. Alas, there is Kasey, along with Sam and Louise, approaching her. It’s fine, Marinette decides. She has time to work on the present, and seeing friends is good, too, as a break from studying. “A Christmas present.” She says. “For Jon.”

“That’s so sweet!” Kasey sits next to her excitedly, examining the project in Marinette’s hands. “But you’re making a scarf? I would have thought you’d do something bigger considering you already fitted him.”

Marinette just chuckles. “He’s expecting it.” She says. “This is the first gift opportunity since then, so he’s obviously going to expect me to make something I fit him for. This is enough to throw him off, and then I’ll give him something bigger later. Not for his birthday, I think. Maybe just randomly.”

“Oh! Clever!”

“Yes,” Sam says, “that’s very clever. Speaking of Jon, I was having some trouble thinking of a Christmas gift for him myself. Do you think you could help me out? I _really_ like, Jon, so I want it to be perfect.”

Marinette bites her lip. “I can help you, bu-”

“Thank you so much!” Sam grabs her arm like Alya does sometimes, all happy and excited. “With your help, I’m sure Jon will fall for me in no time.”

“But.” Marinette says, louder, just enough to put a stop to Sam’s eagerness. “I’m sorry, but he’s not interested in you. If you’re just trying to impress him, you should save yourself the time.” It hurts Marinette to do it, but she has to tell Sam sometime. She’d rather do it now, bluntly, than lead her on and let her waste time and money finding a present in hopes of winning him over with it.

Remembering her two years without holiday gift exchanges with Jon, Marinette is quite sure that gifts aren’t all that important to getting him to love someone, anyway.

Sam is understandably taken aback by Marinette’s words, so Marinette tries to soften the blow. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for, I only mean that I can’t help you… ah… what’s the word? Woo? Woo him?” Marinette looks to Kasey for help but finds only Kasey’s jaw on the floor.

Figures her vocabulary will fail her here and now when she needs to be careful with her words. Damn English. Louise hesitantly nods at her, as if to say, “Yes, that’s the right word.” Thank god for her.

“Why not?” Sam asks. “You know how much I like him.”

Marinette cringes. “Y-yeah, but… Jon and I are sort of-”

Sam stands abruptly, so sharply that it makes Marinette jumps. She clutches her knitting needles like weapons, and only forces herself to relax her grip when she feels Wayzz’s gentle press against her side and casts her mind to her promise of nonviolence.

Sam doesn’t seem to have any such restraint. “What good are you, then?!” She exclaims, loudly. Marinette feels a bit like a deer caught in headlights. _What?_ “I’ve been parading around with you all semester and you’ve never even tried to help me out! Not once have I been invited to see Jagged Stone – you didn’t even _think_ to introduce us when he came here a few weeks ago! No, you go with _Jon_. And now I find out that you won’t even help me out with _him_ because you _stole_ him?! How selfish can you get?!”

_Selfish?_

“God, I’ve wasted so much time with you! I should have figured out a long time ago that you only care about yourself!”

“Sam!” Kasey protests weakly. “Sam, I don’t think-”

“Shut up! We’re done with this girl. She’s not going to give us anything, so we’re done giving her the time of day.”

“Sam! But- oh, Marinette, I- I’m-”

Marinette takes a deep breath. _Peace. Justice._ She reminds herself. Two of the _Girod_ , Jon’s virtues. Marinette reminds herself to live in accordance with them, and with her promise. She sets aside her knitting and stands to face Sam.

Burning anger boils within her. Righteous fury, for daring to call her selfish. For yelling at _her_ because Sam isn’t getting all the perks she thinks she’s owed after playing at friendship. Marinette learned this lesson in _collège_. People want things out of other people. She expected someone to try after her fame with Jagged. She just… thought she was safe with Sam. Admittedly, she doubted Sam at the beginning, but they’ve been friends for months now. Marinette didn’t suspect she’d play-act friendship for so long.

Clearly, she’s wrong. And that pisses her off. But she will not fight. She refuses to be drawn into a battle again. Not physically, not verbally. She takes a breath, takes a step back, and examines the situation. Slowly, carefully, steady and constant. Anger ripples through her, but Marinette does not let it rule her. It’s there, and she acknowledges it, but she won’t let it lash out.

“I understand if you’re hurt.” Marinette says, honestly. Marinette does not doubt that at least some part of Sam legitimately likes Jon. There’s a lot to like about Jon, after all, and there’s no obvious gain for her career aside from eye candy by taking an interest in him, so Marinette believes the interest is genuine. “Jon and I… it took us off guard, too. I understand that you might be angry with me, since you’ve liked him for a while.”

White-hot rage seethes behind Sam’s cold eyes. Marinette dismisses it outright, as if it’s just a fly. Sam is no threat to her. Sam is unsteady, angry. Marinette is calm. “So, I’ll forgive what you say today. But if you really are only my friend for an introduction to Jagged, or anyone else that I know, then I’ll tell you right now that you’re not getting it. If that’s the only reason you’re here, go ahead and leave. If you really do want to be friends, though, I’d be happy to talk more when you’ve calmed down.”

“You self-righteous bitch!” Sam growls. “Now you’re talking down to me? To _me_? You’re _lucky_ I even hung around you!”

Marinette sighs heavily. _Yet you’re the one that wants something from me. So lucky._ She’s no hero. It’s not her job to make the bad people good. If Sam is as rotten as she’s acting right now, then Marinette is within her rights to cut her out entirely. Even so, Marinette decides to leave that chance open to her. If Sam really does want to be friends, the door is open when she decides she wants it.

It’s disappointing, but Marinette is at a place close enough to peace to put it behind her. It’s upsetting that Sam isn’t who she thought she is, and Marinette certainly doesn’t appreciate being yelled at or taken advantage of, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Sam isn’t winning – she’s only hurting herself this way – so justice is satisfied. And stepping away is the most peaceful resolution to this that Marinette sees right now. So, she does.

“Let me know if you change your mind.” Marinette says calmly. She collects her knitting supplies and begins her walk home.

“Marinette! Wait!” Marinette stops for a moment for Kasey to run up to her. Louise is dragging Sam away. “I’m so sorry about her! I swear, Louise and I had no idea she’d do that! And- and I promise I really do love being your friend! I’m not just here for your connections, and I…” Kasey bites her lip and trembles a little, like it’s painful to say, and her next words are nearly venomous – certainly the most biting Marinette has ever heard Kasey be. “What Sam said is _seriously_ messed up! I just- I want you to know that Louise and I have no part in that. I promise!”

Marinette smiles at her and puts a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay! That was… that was…”

“It’s okay, Kasey. It wasn’t your fault.” Marinette shrugs. “I’ve heard worse. Sam’s upset. That’s understandable. I don’t know if she was just trying to hurt me, or if she was being honest, but it’s not worth fighting over.”

“I- I just- I’m so sorry for her.”

Marinette sighs and pulls Kasey into a hug. “It’s okay. You’re not her. You don’t need to apologize for what she does. And we’re still friends, right?”

Kasey beams brilliantly. “Definitely! For sure! If… if that’s the kind of girl Sam is, then I’d rather be friends with you any day. Louise feels the same, I know, she’s just trying to… control Sam right now.”

Marinette smiles. “Cheer up. Give Sam time to calm down. And no matter what happens with her, that doesn’t affect us.”

Marinette is thrown back by Kasey hugging her. “Thank you thank you thank you! You’re the best, Marinette! I’m so glad you’re my friend!”

Marinette pats her back gently. “Me too. And we should both get back to studying, anyway, don’t you think?”


	14. Sorrow hides well in your shell, a fellow man with hurt to spare.

When Jon goes to Paris, a few days after Christmas, he and Marinette have their first true date. According to Marinette, she has to bribe Nino and Kagami to lock Alya and Adrien away together just to be sure they won’t be interrupted, but it’s definitely worth it.

Frankly, Jon is just relieved that it seems to be accepted here that Adrien wants to stalk their date in the same supportive best friend way Alya does, and not that he’s jealous or… well, Jon admittedly doesn’t know the guy that well. They’ve only spoken now and then when Marinette was already on the phone, really. That and stories. Him being Marinette’s ex makes Jon just a tad wary – not about him being around Marinette, but for the future friendship between the two of them personally – but he trusts Marinette’s word that Adrien’s alright with them, and he trusts the rest of her friends, too, so he has no reason to doubt the guy.

Either way, Jon’s first date goes off without a hitch. Mostly, anyway. He’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to _do_ on a date, so he’s a bit awkward, but Marinette thankfully seems to find it more endearing than insufferable.

They spend most of the day wandering around, stopping by major landmarks. The Eiffel Tower, the _Arc de Triomphe_ , the Notre Dame cathedral, but really, every corner they turn seems to have some crazy landmark on it. Even if it’s not strictly a landmark, but just an old fountain or building. The public water fountains may as well be art pieces, for heaven’s sake! Hell, even the modern buildings are so _different_ here! Jon knows Marinette’s family lives over their bakery, but that’s not a common thing in Metropolis. When she shows him her childhood home, he can’t believe just how _cute_ it all is.

He has, though, had Marinette’s baking enough times by now to believe completely just how tasty her parent’s work is. _I am the luckiest boy alive._

It’s not Jon’s first time in Paris, but it is the first time he’s ever looked around. Doing it hand in hand with Marinette makes it the best day ever.

Eventually, they exchange Christmas gifts. Marinette tells him of the scarf she made Adrien back in their teenage days, how his father somehow took the credit for the gift and how she didn’t tell him the truth until much later. She’s nervous about it all, and says she doesn’t want to look like she’s just doing the same thing with him as she did with Adrien, but a scarf was her first real gift to him, she says, and she thinks that turned out pretty well all things considered, change in life paths and breakup notwithstanding.

Plus, she wants to surprise him, and he has to admit he really does expect her to have made clothes that she made such a production of fitting him for last semester. But she’s clever like that.

Jon gets it, and honestly, he doesn’t think twice about the backstory either way when he sees the scarf. The inspiration is obvious, though the technique… Jon hasn’t the faintest idea how Marinette goes about capturing the night sky in fabric. It’s like knitted midnight, stars and all, and Jon – he knows he’s a nerd, but he _has_ to check – quickly finds Cygnus as a reference point and starts mapping out the stars. It’s not a perfect map, not to his memory, anyway, but it’s clearly put together with a lot of care.

Marinette isn’t as much of a geek as him, and this isn’t just the zodiac constellations in order, so he knows she has to have found star charts and referenced them to make this, which is _way_ more work than he’d ever expect for a gift that seems, on its surface, so simple. Especially since she must have done this between Thanksgiving and now, and a lot of that time is dedicated to finals.

Now his present seems lame.

Or, well, Marinette still lights up when she opens the jewelry box and sees the little pewter pentagon inside, so Jon supposes it can’t be _that_ bad. If she’s smiling, he didn’t fail, so he’ll take it. “It means hope.” He says quietly, reminding her as he snuggles into the scarf around his neck.

“I remember.” Marinette giggles. “Thank you, Jon.”

Jon lets out a tense breath. In truth, in addition to it just being really small and lame compared to what she gives him, Jon is afraid it may be a little… too much. Because ultimately, it is his family’s crest. Yes, these days, and on Earth, it’s more associated with Superman and heroism, which in itself poses a potential problem with the gift, but to give her his family’s crest to wear is… suspiciously close to a promise ring.

Now, Jon isn’t anywhere near ready for that kind of step, and he doubts Marinette is, either, but the symbol also means hope, and that… that is something that _defines_ how he views her. She gives him hope for the future. She gives him hope for peace and for a life unbound by Superboy and heroes.

In a lot of ways, the gift of the symbol is extremely ironic. But frankly, Jon appreciates that. And, if anyone asks, he can brush it off by saying he’s from Metropolis (sort of) so he’s a Superman fan. For everyone not in the know, it’s just a small gesture to bring Marinette a little closer to her boyfriend’s home. Perfectly innocuous. It works.

And Marinette’s clever, certainly cleverer than him. One look at her face tells him she picks up on all those little meanings and more, and that she appreciates it.

The glittering of her eyes may as well be the stars out in Hamilton County, though Jon has to admit, the Eiffel Tower lit up as they pass by on the Seine is pretty spectacular as well. It’s there, under the first facsimile of the environment of their first attempt, that Marinette fiddles with the scarf around his neck, bunches it up in her hands, and gently tugs him down.

It’s strange. Out in the tree in the country, there’s no one around. It’s him, her, the bugs, and the stars and that’s about it. Here, on a crowded boat on the Seine, under the sparkle not of stars but of lights not suspended millions of light years away, but towering over them very real and raw and bright, when he leans closer to Marinette, it’s not all that different than it was the first time. The night is colder, but it feels warmer without the biting wind of flat farmland. The light is harsher, but it’s also more grounded. When he looks into Marinette’s eyes, there’s no difference in the night. What he feels inside of him is exactly the same. This moment is the same.

Except that the soft wisp of breath across his lips doesn’t startle him this time. This time, he doesn’t stop until proper contact is made. He doesn’t jump away at all, actually. He can stand here and let Marinette steal the breath from his lungs like this until he suffocates, and he’d be happy.

It’s short. Just a peck, really. Sweet and chaste and Jon really wouldn’t have it any other way. Not yet. As far as he’s concerned, as first kisses go, this is perfect. It’s not Jon’s first kiss ever, though nearly so, but it is his first kiss with Marinette, and that’s just as important.

Everything, the kiss, this night, the date, it’s all beyond Jon’s wildest dreams. Jon almost can’t believe himself for just how deeply in love he is. It’s ridiculous given he hadn’t truly thought of her in such a way until Thanksgiving, but… everything was primed. Perfectly primed for them to fall in love. All they needed was the catalyst, a starlit dance, a magic carpet ride, and that’s it for him.

* * *

Jon gets a curious text, before the break ends. It’s from Sam, and the first thing he thinks when he reads it is that she must be drunk. In fact, he actually calls Kasey to ask her to check in on Sam for him, because she has to be either inebriated or delirious and she may need someone to take care of her right now.

Kasey just tells him in no uncertain terms that no, Sam isn’t drunk, she’s just trying to one-up Marinette after the argument they had before finals. Jon is well aware of what happened then, but even still he asks her to double check, because… well… Jon has trashed the entire text conversation with Sam three times now, and is quite frankly too afraid to even click into the conversation at all when he sees that she sends him an image. Not after the first one she sends.

Jon honestly thought only guys did that. He’s had guys send him pictures like that unsolicited before, but girls? Not once, thankfully. Not until today.

Logically, he knows he should keep a record of the messages, but for Sam’s decency he just deletes sight (thankfully) unseen. If he _really_ needs a record, he’s sure Damian or Tim can dig it up. Both are professional, and if it gets to that point, he’ll have a lot more to worry about than people seeing those pictures. Jon is hoping it doesn’t come to that, though. Honestly, given he’s adamantly not looking at that conversation, he’s not even entirely sure the pictures are what he’s thinking they are. But even if they are, and even if Sam isn’t drunk, this is most likely just lashing out and trying to manipulate him with… carnal pleasures, or something. Funny that she thinks that will work on him, or that she’d want him if she _does_ think it’ll work on him.

Clearly, her logic is not there at the moment, so he’s just going to let her tire herself out and kindly refrain from actually looking at any picture she sends him. That, and tell Kasey and Marinette what’s happening. Kasey, because she can hopefully get Sam under some sort of control, and Marinette for obvious reasons.

Funnily enough, he gets a text from Louise warning him about Sam’s little outburst. Too late, but he appreciates that she thinks to try. That’s two testimonies saying that Sam has basically just gone off her rocker tonight. Jon hopes she figures it out. He really doesn’t like blocking numbers, but if this continues beyond this one outburst, he’s not going to have much choice.

Marinette handles it maturely enough that it honestly doesn’t bother him much. He definitely sees more than he wants to, just because the first image is unexpected so he doesn’t know not to look, but she thankfully isn’t _completely_ undressed in that first one. And it doesn’t upset him. He actually feels a bit bad for her. He’s been trying to gently let her down all semester (and he realizes _now_ that he probably didn’t have the best tactic, but even so he’s positive he was obvious), so he figures this is just her last ditch, desperation attempt. It’s… really sad.

Like, _really_ sad. Maybe she’s trying to win him over with pity? Whatever the case, after a short conversation with Louise, Kasey, and Marinette, Jon just silences his phone and puts it away. When he checks it later, he deletes whatever Sam’s sent him and lets the other girls know that it’s stopped for now.

All in all? What a strange day. Jon makes a note to avoid Sam in the future if Marinette isn’t there – not that he usually sees the girls without Marinette around since they’re her group more than his, he has his boys – but otherwise tries to just put the whole day behind him. He doesn’t hear from Sam again, which is sad because she _was_ a friend, but he’s not beat up about it because if she was telling the truth to Marinette, and her recent, pitiful attempt to steal him from her possibly just to hurt her tells him she probably was, that’s not a good friend, anyway. It’s sad, but they’re better off now. He’ll get over it in time.

He’s lucky he was never really that close to her. Her flirting ironically kept her more distant from him than the other girls. He does make sure to stick close to Marinette when he can, though. She’s strong, but it’s still a friend betraying her. She insists she’s been through worse, which Jon is sadly sure is true (he’s been through worse himself), but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let her handle it all on her own.

(When he explains the situation to the boys, he gets a string of four simple messages, one from each of them, reading, “yikes,” which makes both him and Marinette chuckle. A small joy, to lift the atmosphere. It works with aplomb.)

When the next semester starts and Jon has Marinette full-time, he takes full advantage of that fact to hang off of her whenever he can. Not only is he stubbornly trying to stop her from thinking too much about Sam, he also just gets a _lot_ of free cuddles. (He still can’t believe he gets to cuddle Marinette like this.)

It’s hard to say, but he thinks it’s working. Either way, it has a side effect of overcoming the hesitance they have about their new boundaries in their new relationship, and Jon is more than happy to have Marinette draping herself over his lap like he’s just a comfy pillow. So, it’s a win-win.

A lot more goes on, too, but it’s all just casual, normal stuff. Jon teases David about not being with Tamias yet when even Jon managed to make it official with Marinette, he and Marinette give some awkward explanations about how they started dating and their holidays overall, Jon raves to the boys about the scarf that Marinette made for him, sending Jesse absolutely _wild_ because _dude_ , that’s Jagged Stone’s designer and you got a custom piece from her! Holy cow!

All fun and games, and their semester goes well, too. Jon has a semester of his foreign language class under his belt now, and is officially using Marinette to cheat (or, as he prefers to call it, check his work) on his French assignments. Marinette loses all shame about using him as a mannequin. Sometimes, they do both those things at the same time.

Marinette surprises him with a shirt, with a lame, cheeky excuse of some-week-iversary, which prompts Jon to get her flowers “just because” which starts a small gift war between the two of them which only stops when they both sit down and agree to stop wasting money on each other.

Jon adores the shirt, though. It’s just a simple black button-up with large, colored horizontal pleats (red, blue, yellow) on the outside of the short sleeves, but it’s comfortable, fits him better than anything else he owns, and it’s a gift from Marinette. He wears it whenever he can.

And that’s how life is for the next few months. Even summer comes and goes smoothly, despite some frustration on Jon’s part at the distance from his girlfriend (His girlfriend!! That still makes him feel fuzzy inside!) but even then, their powers and pasts are put to good use letting them visit each other much more often than normal long-distance relationships would allow.

Jon doesn’t _think_ he jinxes it. He can’t remember when he does, if he indeed does so. But _someone_ must, because it’s all going honkey dory until he gets a phone call from Damian.

Why is it that phone calls from Damian always seem to end in everything being chaotic for a while? Jon sighs as he picks up the phone, resigning himself to… whatever is going to happen, but rapping his knuckles on his wooden desk just for the hope. He’s barely gotten back to school, and it’s his final year here. He really doesn’t need this.

“Jon. You need to get home. Now.”

Jon knows that voice. That’s the “this is urgent; do as I say or die” voice. He knows better than to fight it. “Metropolis or the farm?” Jon asks, worried now. “Is Marinette in danger, too?”

There’s a sharp sigh from Damian’s side. “You’re not in danger.” He says.

Jon relaxes, and pauses his preparations to leave. If he’s not in danger where he is, then why on Earth is Damian sending him back home? Damian hasn’t bothered Jon about being a hero since their chat after Marinette found out about him. “Then you better explain.” Jon says tersely.

“Of course.” Damian clicks his tongue, a sharp sound that cuts even over the phone. “Last month, some members of the League investigated a fire in Cadmus Labs in D.C. They uncovered, among other things, a so-called ‘weapon’ created to, according to the files and the weapon himself, replace your father should he die, and kill him should he turn evil.”

Jon… honestly doesn’t know what to think about all this. “I haven’t been a hero for three years, dude.” Jon says. “This is going to hurt my brain, isn’t it?”

“It’s quite simple.” Damian snaps. “Using your father’s Kryptonian DNA, and Lex Luthor’s as a stabilizer, Cadmus created a genetic clone with the intention of replacing or killing Superman, whichever is necessary first. Understood?”

Jon furrows his brow, trying to wrap his head around it. “That’s not a clone, Dami. If it’s Dad’s and Luthor’s DNA that’s just my half-brother, isn’t it?”

“If you wish to think of it that way, then that works, too.”

“Where’d the mitochondrial DNA come from?”

Damian snorts. “I’m surprised you know what that is.”

“I _did_ take biology.”

Damian clears his throat, as close to a laugh as the situation, and Damian’s demeanor, permits. “One of the paternal donors, most likely. There were no records of a female donor. This was not a normal process, obviously, and given you’ve manifested powers with a human mother I’m not sure we can know without testing him. Or that it really matters.”

Jon snickers. “Yeah, good point. So, in summary, I have a half-brother now?”

“Simply put, yes.”

Jon breathes deeply. “And… you said this was last month? _Why_ didn’t Dad tell me this?”

“You’ll have to ask him that yourself, I’m afraid. Speaking of, do get going. The weapon seems to be beating him pretty badly right now.”

“Wait, they’re _fighting_?!” Jon exclaims, jumping back to his feet. Marinette comes out into the living room, looking at him with a clearly concerned expression, so Jon puts a finger to his lips and puts Damian on speaker.

“Yes, that’s why I told you to hurry home. The farm, by the way, to answer your first question.”

“Damian, I don’t fight! You know that! Can’t someone else stop them?”

“Stop two Kryptonians?” Damian scoffs. “Sure, let me just dig out my hoard of kryptonite and head over right away.”

“You say, as if you _don’t_ have a hoard of kryptonite!”

“Do you _really_ want me to use it?” Damian’s voice is terse and challenging, telling Jon that he absolutely will. Jon knows he will. “Because I have no other means to stop them, and you all have been very clearly against kryptonite in any form. I’m calling you because you can stop them without resorting to it. But if you do not want that courtesy, I’ll go stop them myself.”

“No!” Jon growls under his breath. “Damn it, Damian. I’m not fighting them!”

“Then talk to them. I don’t care _how_ you stop them, just make sure that weapon doesn’t kill Superman.”

Marinette’s eyes go wide as the call ends abruptly. “Kill Superman?!” She gasps. “What’s going on.”

_Freaking hell, Damian. Every time._ “I’ve got a new brother.” Jon says, exasperated. “And he’s not getting along with Dad.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, either. In case you didn’t notice, Damian isn’t exactly the most helpful guy around.”

“That’s for sure.”

Jon sighs. “I have to go. I promise, I won’t fight, but one way or another, that’s my family. I have to-” Jon’s throat closes up involuntarily.

A fight. A Kryptonian, just like him and Dad. Duking it out with Superman. Jon is the only other person in the world strong enough to interfere with any relative safety. Aunt Kara must be really busy with something really far away or Jon wouldn’t be asked in the first place. It’s either this, or kryptonite, and by the time Damian can get the kryptonite over there, it might be over, anyway.

But… Jon hasn’t fought since he quit being Superboy. He _can’t_ fight. Not just because of his promise, but because thinking about it…

“I’ll go with you.”

Jon’s eyes snap open, fixing on Marinette. “No! Not a chance! I don’t know anything about this brother, but he’s fighting Superman, and he has Kryptonian powers. I’m not letting you go out there!”

Marinette just sets her jaw and fixes a stern gaze on him. “Wayzz? Will your magic hold up against a Kryptonian?”

Wayzz titters awkwardly. “Ah, it is hard to say. There are limits to what I can shield from. It should hold up for at least a few attacks, but if you end up in an onslaught…”

“Then that doesn’t happen.” Marinette says simply. Her eyes turn back to Jon. “But I’m not letting _you_ go alone, either. I’m not completely incapable, you know, and I’m not fighting, either. I’m going to support you.”

“Marinette…”

“Jon, you can barely _think_ about seriously fighting without freezing. You are _not_ going out there without protection. Understood?”

Jon swallows down the burning shame within him and nods. “Understood.” It’s strangely easy to fall back into submission when she takes that tone with him. Like when he follows Superman’s orders in the field. It’s the tone of a leader of her team, ensuring everyone makes it through safely, and years of training, even now, make Jon fall quickly into line.

“Wayzz, transform me.” The flash of green changes Marinette’s clothes and gives her a shield, and her piercing eyes fix once more into Jon. “Fill me in on the rest while we fly. Or would you rather I take the horse Miraculous out?”

Jon growls past the paralysis in his chest. “We’ll fly. You need to be caught up before we get there, so we need the time.” He sighs. “I just hope we don’t waste _too_ much time.”

“He’ll be okay, Jon.” Marinette puts her hand on his shoulder. He leans into the touch, finding the same comfort in it as always, despite the suit. “We can do this. Peacefully. This is your brother, right? We can talk this out.”

Jon gets moving but doesn’t stop the conversation. “My brother that I only found out about just now.” He mutters. “Apparently, Dad’s known about him for a month. Damian, too, probably.”

And that hurts. That hurts most. Jon should at least be aware enough of the situation that a brother of all things doesn’t surprise him, even if the fight still does. _How could Dad have kept that secret from me?_ Damian, too, but Damian is… well not family, for one, even if he may as well be a sort of weird cousin at this point. Damian not mentioning it hurts, but it’s honestly not that surprising. Damian _always_ has secrets. He doesn’t make secret of that, at least. Jon’s own father, though…

Jon slips his arms around Marinette and takes off. They get out of the building in a blur and fly away too fast for anyone to see. Jon only slows down once he’s far enough that they can talk safely, and then only long enough to explain the situation fully to her, then he goes full speed once more to the farm.

They touch down in a smoldering field. Jon notes off-handedly that it’s an off-season field. _Least none of the crop is destroyed. That I can see, anyway._ Not too far away, Jon’s father, in his Superman suit, is being punched out of the sky by a feral-looking teenager.

That’s… an interesting, and very concerning, sight. Jon shares a look with Marinette, both unsure how exactly to step in.

When the teenager drops down to start beating Superman into the earth, Jon steps forward, but freezes, as if rooted to the spot. He can’t… he can’t step in. He can’t see those fists swinging, he can’t feel the heat of those stupid eye lasers, he can’t handle the rush of adrenaline through his system.

“Breathe.”

He can’t breathe, either. What the hell? What is even happening?

“Jon!”

“Jon?!”

“Jo- Superboy?!”

For a few, terrifying minutes, Jon doesn’t have any idea what’s happening. It’s almost like he blacks out, but he still _sees_ everything. Blurs all around him, out of focus, everything’s green, there’s a roar in his ears, drowning out sound, cotton muffling his brain. It’s like he just shuts down.

It comes so quickly, but clears slowly. A steady hand and voice guide him back, and he follows it for its familiarity, muted as it is. When he shakes the last of the fog away, breathless and trembling, Jon needs a moment to reexamine the field.

The green is Marinette’s magic, a dome surrounding the two of them, a little birdcage of safety, where Jon can regain control of himself. Outside, Superman and the black-haired teenager stop fighting, both staring his way with open mouths. _That’s one way to get them to stop fighting, I guess._ Jon thinks bitterly. _God, this is why I don’t fight anymore,_ Damian _._

“I’m good, Marinette.” It’s mostly true. He’s fragile, liable to burst – into rage or tears he’s not quite sure yet – and he’s experiencing a number of things physically that he’s not sure even make sense to be feeling right now, but he’s present and he’s focused, as much as he can be, on the task at hand. That’s the most important thing. The rest can wait until they’re back home, just the two of them.

Marinette adjusts her hold on her shield, glaring at both the teenager _and_ Superman, as if either of them may attack at any moment. “You sure? They’ve stopped fighting. No rush.”

“I-I’m good.” Jon repeats.

Marinette scowls, but drops her shield. The green dome around them disappears.

“Jon?” Superman speaks first. He looks pale, cold, clammy, sort of sick, almost like how Jon feels. “What are you doing here? You should be in New York. Are you okay? Who’s this?”

“I _was_ in New York.” Jon hisses. As the numbness of his panic disappears, something much hotter fills in its place. “Until I got a call saying that my dad is fighting with my brother – thanks for telling me about that, by the way – and that I need to get over here before you _kill_ each other.”

Jon makes no secret of the pure and simple fact that he is absolutely pissed off right now. Marinette, with how well Jon knows her now, looks no better, though she’s certainly controlling herself much better.

“You’re the original Superboy.” The teenager says quietly, with something like awe in his voice.

Jon sighs. “Yeah. I was Superboy. I’m not anymore, so I would like to know _why_ I’m being called out here. If one of you would kindly explain?” Jon crosses his arms and looks at the both of them with the same look his mom gives him when he misbehaves.

Parental disappointment is… the only sort-of positive outlet he can think of for the rage he’s feeling right now. On the bright side, both Superman and the teenager have the sense to look abashed under Jon’s stern gaze.

“I’m Superboy.” The teenager says. “I was created by Cadmus to replace Superman should he fall, or kill him should he turn from the light.”

“Superboy.” Jon repeats, unimpressed. “That the only name you got?” Ordinarily, Jon would assume not, but an organization making people in secret doesn’t exactly give him faith in humanity.

The teenager falters for a moment. “…Yes.”

Jon sighs. “Okay. This is fine. Care to explain why you’re fighting Superman?”

The teenager hesitates for one more moment, then huffs grumpily and turns away. He looks like he’s only sixteen or so, so even though he’s a big guy considering that, the expression is kind of cute. _Great._ Jon thinks. _My new brother is a Damian._ He rolls his eyes. “Superman? Any input?”

“You shouldn’t be here!” Superman says, finally spurring into motion to approach him. Marinette plants herself between the two. It must be a hilarious image from an outside perspective, or even from Superman’s, considering she’s so much smaller than both the men. Even so, Superman stops advancing when Jon doesn’t call her off from her defense. “And who’s this?”

“I’m his girlfriend.” Marinette snaps. “And I’m just as angry with you as he is.”

Superman’s eyes go wide. “Marinette? You’re a-”

“Dad.” Jon snaps his fingers impatiently.

Superman clears his throat awkwardly, sending a wary glance over to the teenager. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know if he was…”

“A spy.” The teenager says huffily. “Or an assassin.”

Superman sighs. “I’m going to have to figure out who leaked our address to him.”

“Good luck.” The teenager retorts.

“Enough!” Jon rubs at his temples. “Let me get this straight. You found my genetic half-brother a month ago. You decide to not only _not tell me_ that I have a brother, but you hide him… where, exactly?”

“With the Titans.”

“Yeah, sure, because if he’s here to kill you, the Titans are totally safe.” Jon scoffs.

“They’re my friends!” The teenager protests.

Jon takes another deep breath. Marinette rubs his back. Thank God for Marinette. “So, my brother is with the Titans for a month, all the while you… investigate your son? And turn up with nothing, I assume?”

Superman sighs. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“Yeah, well neither did I!” Jon snaps. Superman recoils and ducks his head. “In fact, I distinctly remember asking to _stop_ this! So, don’t try to play that card with me. Not right now. You’ve been investigating him for a month. So? Is he, or is he not, a threat?”

“I didn’t find anything to suggest he’s dangerous.”

“Thank you.” Jon sighs. “Now… Superboy. Bro. Whatever. What’s this fight about?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” The teenager says.

“Fine. Dad? Explanation?”

Superman sighs. “He’s upset because he feels like I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t.”

“…No. I don’t.”

“Ugh. Why, why, why, am I here?” Jon tilts his head back to look at the sky.

Marinette’s hand through his hair grounds him. With that and a deep breath and her murmured words, “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Superboy doesn’t seem like a bad kid. I think he’s just acting out.”

“Yeah.” Jon says back, under his breath. “I’m thinking the same thing.”

“I thought you retired.” The teenager says. “The original Superboy disappeared. That’s why I was made, because there’s no replacement for Superman anymore.”

“I did.” Jon says. “I _am_. There’s a reason I didn’t put on the cape to come out here, bro. I’m retired from hero work, and I’m living non-violently. I don’t fight. I’m just here because I found out my family is, and if I couldn’t talk you down, you’d have kryptonite being carted here by the buckets. I figured we’d _all_ prefer that not happen.”

The teenager does recoil at the thought. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Did both of you really think the rest of the League would just ignore this?”

Superman rubs his neck. “I didn’t really have a choice, Jon.”

Jon firmly believes that one always has a choice – he has to, to stay true to his principles – but it’s not worth criticizing his dad for this. It’s clear the kid started the fight. “Look. Bro.”

“Why’re you calling me that?” The teenager is pulled back, guarded. Jon shares a look with Marinette and sighs. She’s got that analyzing look. “What? Bro? Because you’re my brother, and it’s a lot easier than saying Superboy. I may not use the name anymore, but that’d still be confusing right now.”

“You- just like that? I’m your brother?”

Jon calms down fully and softens his gaze as he looks at the teenager. “Yeah. You’re my brother. Aren’t you?”

A little too quickly, too eagerly, the teenager nods. “I am.”

“Good.” Jon thinks for a moment, watching the teenager. “The Titans didn’t give you a name? A civilian name, I mean, or even a Kryptonian name?” There’s no reason the Teen Titans would give him a Kryptonian name, Jon knows, but if he’s been around for a month, there must be _something_.

The teenager looks away. “No. I haven’t even been on missions with them. They’re just babysitting me.”

Ah, familiar disappointment. League’s orders, no doubt. They don’t trust him, they hope that a bunch of kids his age will get him to open up despite them clearly not trusting him, they ignore the danger that, if he is an actual threat, he risks to a bunch of teenagers.

Yeah, it’s the same old song. Jon can’t hate them for it; not long ago he probably would agree with them, and even now he doesn’t have a _better_ alternative, taking into account the very real danger that a potentially mind controlled Kryptonian poses, but still. Jon really hates heroes right now. “Do you want a name?” He asks.

And damn, the kid nearly tears up just like that. Jon shares another look with Marinette. _We are going to parent this kid_ so hard _, aren’t we? But we haven’t been together long enough for kids._ There’s a flash of amusement in Marinette’s eyes, like she reads his mind, and Jon sighs. _I’m going to be_ that _big brother. Great._

“You…” The kid says. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Jon says. “If you want to be a hero, you can go ahead and use Superboy if you want. I’m not using it anymore. But you’re going to need an identity if you aren’t just full-time, or you don’t pull a Beast Boy. But… since Dad and my identities still need to be secret, unless you get a civilian name, we can’t officially claim you as our family. See? So… I’ve got a name in mind. Two, technically. If you want.”

“Yes! Please!”

Jon doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the desperation the kid is trying so hard to hide. “How do you feel about Kon-El? We can call you Conner for an Earthling name. Last name Kent, obviously. Or Danvers, if you want to be Aunt Kara’s. I’m sure I could convince her.”

“Kon-El.” The kid repeats, awe clear now. “Conner Kent?”

Superman makes a face. “Where’d you get those names?”

Jon smiles. “Aunt Kara tried giving me a Kryptonian name, once upon a time. Kon-El was one of the options.” Jon looks over to the teenager. “If you don’t mind that that was mine, once, too.”

“Not at all!”

Aw. Jon swears he can see the kid smile. Just a little bit, but it’s there.

Superman frowns. “She didn’t tell me about that. What’d you land on?”

Jon flashes his dad a cheeky smile. “Jor-El.”

Superman steps back, like he’s hit by a train. “Named after your grandfather.”

Jon nods. “Just like my human name.” Superman retreats into thought, so Jon takes the chance to look to Marinette. She grabs his hand, entwining their fingers. Jon smiles. “So, I assume you two aren’t going to fight anymore?”

“No.” Conner says. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Jon lets go of Marinette to walk over him. “Hey, Kon.” Conner looks up at him. Jon gives him a patient smile. “It’s alright. No one got hurt.” He glances over to Superman and Conner himself. “Much, anyway.”

“But you… when we were fighting, you…”

Jon struggles to keep up his smile, but he manages for his new brother. “There’s a reason I retired, Kon. That’s why I’m not a hero anymore, but that’s not your fault.” Jon puts his hands on Conner’s shoulders, pleasantly surprised that Conner doesn’t try to push him off. “I’m going to be honest with you, I’m still figuring everything out. You, and all this. But you’re my brother. If Dad’s ever a problem for you, you’re welcome at my place.”

Conner tears up again. _Wow_ , that tugs at Jon’s heart. “Really?”

Jon smiles and looks back at Marinette. “Well, actually it’s our place, but… Marinette! What do you say?”

Marinette giggles. “Family is always welcome in our home, Kon. You stop by anytime. I’ll make some cookies for you.”

Jon gets the breath knocked out of him by Conner practically tackling him to hug him tightly. “Thank you.” He mutters, before quickly separating, face flushed. From embarrassment or the tears he’s still fighting to keep back, Jon isn’t quite sure.

_Yeah, we are_ definitely _going to parent this kid. Why is my life like this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dreamed posting this last night, and was very confused for a while this morning because I legit did not know if I posted this chapter a day early, or if I posted last chapter a day late, or whether my posting schedule is messed up or not.
> 
> That's not important or anything. Just a fun anecdote. Anyway, that tag is finally relevant, isn't it?


	15. All that's left for me to climb to the heavens is the chasm of the night.

Marinette is awoken by a muffled shout. She frowns into her pillow for a moment, waiting and wondering if it isn’t just her imagination, and then she hears it again. Not a yell, not a sob, something in between. That involuntary whimper closer to a groan, dulled by a wall. It only takes her a second to decide to rise from her bed.

It’s… not the first time she hears sounds like this from Jon’s room. She knows he hears the same things from hers. But both of them know each other’s pasts as heroes, so both of them understand. They don’t interrupt. It’s an unspoken agreement. They talk about nightmares, sometimes, if they need to, but only the one suffering brings it up. They certainly don’t go to each other in the middle of the night.

But… that was then. That was when they were friends. Best friends, even. Now, they’re dating, and even though Marinette still fights to do it, crossing the boundary into his room feels less inappropriate. She’s not afraid of overstepping her bounds. Not as much, anyway.

And besides that. Given what happened, Marinette already has an idea of what’s troubling Jon tonight.

A new brother, hidden from him for a month, locked in combat with his father. A weapon made to kill Superman, replace him, with Jon’s old name. Damian’s storage of kryptonite the only means of putting down the last Kryptonians.

Jon does so well out there on the farm. Marinette is so proud of him for standing up and resolving the situation peacefully, if not quite how he intends, and for having the strength to chastise Superman directly after a panic attack like that.

But Marinette also knows, because she does the same thing, that pushing past something, brute forcing his way through to the conclusion he needs, is not healthy resolution. Just because he does what he needs to do doesn’t mean he’s okay when all is said and done.

It’s been a while since the last nightmare. At least, the last one Marinette is able to note. She’s sure they’re more frequent, but Jon is quiet enough that she can’t hear, or she just doesn’t wake up at all and misses it. To her knowledge, though, this hasn’t happened since they started dating. Not during last semester, at least, and none the days he spent in Paris during the summer.

It pisses her off that it’s been triggered again. Jon deserves peaceful dreams. He deserves a peaceful life. But as much as Marinette wants to rage at Superman, for letting himself get dragged into a fistfight with a _teenager_ (at best, given Conner is technically much younger, and she doesn’t care that Conner started it, Superman is an adult who should have handled it peacefully), for keeping Jon’s own brother a secret from him for a month, for not handling the situation so that Jon needn’t have been called in, that’s not Marinette’s place.

She certainly loses respect for Superman, but she’s following Jon’s lead with this. It’s his family. She has much more important things to worry about than spiteful fury at Superman for allowing this. She has to take care of Jon.

She raps her knuckles gently on his door. “Jon?” She asks quietly. “Can I come in?”

There’s a sharp, shaky breath that Marinette only hears because she’s listening so closely for it, then his voice. “Please.”

She turns the handle and slips into the pitch-dark room. Jon’s breathing is labored, and sounds like he’s fighting tears, and Marinette can make out just the barest silhouette of a Jon-sized ball curled up on the bed.

She doesn’t come in here often, not even after they start dating, but she knows Jon keeps his floor clean, so she doesn’t think twice about making her way over to him.

Her foot snags on fabric along the way, triggering a shatteringly loud clatter of metal and rustling denim. She winces. Jon does go directly to his room when they finally return home in the evening after their confrontation; she should expect him to not care to make sure his clothes are put away properly. Just this once. That’s her mistake. Carefully, she pushes the discarded pants aside with her foot, and finally reaches the bed.

She slips in under the blanket beside him and coaxes him to roll over to face her. Then, she hugs him close and kisses his head. She says nothing. She simply holds him.

It takes some time. Minutes, hours, Marinette can’t tell, but she’s there for a long time. Slowly, Jon’s breathing relaxes. She can tell by the way his face furrows up that he hasn’t fallen back asleep, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that, little by little, he calms down.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” He asks, voice just a whimper. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve woken you up, too.” Marinette says matter-of-factly. “It’s okay.”

Jon breathes a shaky sigh. His forehead falls against hers. “I hate this.” He says softly. Despite how he trembles, despite the undercurrent in his voice that rises above the fragility, his voice never travels beyond the tiny space between the two of them. “Dad didn’t even tell me about Kon. I had to find out from Damian telling me to break them up. Does he… does he just not trust me? Because I’m not Superboy anymore? I- I know I told him I don’t need to be kept up to date on all the hero stuff, but… this is my _brother_! Why wouldn’t he tell me about this?”

Marinette exhales gently. “It was wrong of him to keep Kon secret from you,” she agrees, “but he was probably just trying to protect you. I’m sure he just didn’t want to risk you getting dragged back in.”

Jon scoffs bitterly. “What a great job.”

“I know.” Marinette rubs Jon’s bare back carefully. “I know…”

Jon sniffs. “What’s wrong with me, Marinette? I always – _always_ – trusted Dad. He was my _idol_. I used to want to be just like him. Now, I… I feel like I can’t be any more different from him. What- what do I do? What _did_ I do? Why am I… Why…” His breathing grows more tense, and he screws his eyes shut tight. “I don’t even know what happened. It’s like one moment I was Superboy, and the next… he doesn’t even tell me about my own family. _No one_ does until they need me.

“Am I really that- that broken that- that I…”

New York is lucky that fury isn’t a physical thing. Superman, the Justice League, and all of America as collateral is lucky that the fire under Marinette’s skin stays there and does not immolate the entirety of them all. How _dare_ they hurt Jon like this? How dare they make, however unintentionally, a man like Jon feel _broken_.

Marinette spent a long time feeling broken. Betrayed, alone, without her only mentor in the cruel world of heroism. She spent a long time believing it all to be her fault. She only persisted out of obligation.

Adrien once spent a long time feeling broken. Abused by a father blinded by a vain hope. Forgotten in his gilded cage, left to believe he’s the problem.

Like hell is she letting Jon feel that way.

“You’re not.” Marinette says firmly. “You’re not broken. You are the most wonderful, the kindest, the bravest, the most principled man I have ever met. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

Jon is quiet for a long time. “Did you hear Kon?” He asks eventually. “Cadmus made him because I retired. Because we need a Superboy. I… I turned my back on that, on everyone who needs me, and… and because of that…”

“I don’t believe that.” Marinette says. “That might be what they told him, but he also said that he’s supposed to kill Superman if he turns bad, right? This… Cadmus. They didn’t tell you about that plan, did they? So, they would have made Kon either way, except… if you were there as a replacement, he might have only been a weapon. To take down either of you if they thought they needed to.”

Jon squeaks out such an odd noise. It’s a laugh cut off by a shaky gasp. “You always were so much smarter than me. You’re… you’re right. God knows why that makes me feel a little better, but… it does.”

“Pretty stupid that our lives are so weird that the thought of a half-brother created solely to kill you is a comforting thought, isn’t it?” Marinette teases, finally pulling a real laugh out of Jon. “But it’s because you know it’s not your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong. Matter of fact, I’m really proud of you.”

“You are?”

“Of course, I am. You put them both in their place, and never sacrificed your virtues to do it. You proved to us both that even if the worst happens, we don’t have to sacrifice what we’ve done here. Right? Nonviolence. To me, you’re exactly what the _Girod_ stands for.”

Jon sighs. “I’m still not convinced it’s possible. But… thank you. I’m- I’m trying.”

“I know you are.”

Jon pulls her closer and buries his head in her shoulder. They lay like that, in silence, for so long that Marinette is sure he falls back asleep. But he surprises her when he says, “Today made me think… look back on everything that happened. I… God, I don’t even recognize myself. I always thought I’d grow up to be Dad, basically, but… now I’m on a completely different path from him. So different that he doesn’t even- I’m… scared. Lost.”

“I know.” Marinette mutters into his hair. “God, Jon, I _know_.” Throwing herself into the unknown with clipped wings and no safety net, Marinette knows the feeling. Not knowing where she’s going, hardly recognizing where she’s been. It’s scary, and it’s lonely, but… they’re not alone. “I’m here, Jon.” Jon’s grip on her tightens when she says it. “It’s okay, because we can do this together, right?”

“…Together. Right. If we’re together… I love you, Marinette.”

“I love you, too, Jon.”

“Hey, Marinette?” Jon whispers, with life just about renewed in his voice. “…On a scale of one to ten… how much have you already adopted Kon?”

Without missing a beat, Marinette says, “Your dad will have to fight me for the papers.”

* * *

Marinette is no stranger to sharing a bed with her boyfriend. The only difference when she wakes up today is that it’s Jon next to her rather than Adrien. Even so, it’s been years since back then, when she and Adrien were living in that apartment together.

If someone had told teenage Marinette that this is what her future holds, sleepily rising with the morning sun over the skyline of New York City, with not Adrien, but a farm boy from America stirring at her side, that little Marinette would probably have had a panic attack. If she’s told that _she’s_ the one who steps away from the life she dreams of, that life with Adrien, with marriage and kids and a hamster on a horizon close enough to taste, that little Marinette might actually faint from shock.

It’s so strange, how dreams change and how reality drags them down to Earth. Jon is right. When she looks back at the person she was and how she manages to get where she is… she hardly recognizes that little girl. It’s sad, in a way. It’s rose-tinted nostalgia frozen by an odd melancholy. Affection for that little girl, in almost the same way she looks at Conner – a kid overwhelmed by the craziness of life, who needs a guiding hand – but… knowing that not only has she given up on those dreams, but that she made the choice to reject them is… sobering.

Would little Marinette like the person she is now? Does the Marinette of today? Marinette smiles and rubs Jon’s shoulder idly. He’s stirring awake, not quite dead to the world like she sometimes is in the mornings, but much more tired than he should be. He’s a morning person. Has been for as long as Marinette has known him. He only has trouble rising if he has trouble sleeping, and that considered, Marinette expects it this morning.

Even if it would be the shock of a lifetime for the Marinette of so long ago, Marinette thinks she’s quite happy with this. It’s still frightening. She’s still a little lost. To leave behind dreams she holds so dearly for so long is no small thing, and Marinette knows the next big change is just around the corner. They only have this year before they graduate. After that, they need to enter the next chapter of their lives. The transition may or may not be an easy one. But if they tackle it together, they can overcome it just like they are overcoming this one.

Jon sits up, rubbing his eyes and yawning, and mumbles, “Someone’s at the door.”

Not a second later, the doorbell rings. Marinette rolls her eyes. With a ruffle of Jon’s hair and a jump out of bed, she leaves Jon’s room for her own. “Be with you in a minute!” She calls to whoever’s at the door.

She refuses to answer the door in her nightgown. That said, it’s an easy affair to slip on a simple dress. As she leaves her own room to answer the door, Jon emerges from his, shirt still unbuttoned and fastening his belt.

Marinette answers the door. Standing there, looking very much out of place, Conner Kent fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “Oh! Conner! That was fast. Come in, come in!” Marinette steps aside so he can squeeze past her. “Take your shoes off. You can put them in this closet here.”

Conner mechanically does as instructed, so Marinette turns and catches Jon with a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to make some cookies. And breakfast. You move the furniture.”

“Yeah, this ain’t my first rodeo.” Jon smiles back, catching her before she can hurry to the kitchen to give her a kiss on the lips. When he lets her go, he turns to grin at Conner. “Good to see you, Kon! Let me give you the grand tour.”

While Marinette is working on breakfast (and cookies on the side) Jon comes into the living room with Conner on his tail. Conner looks so lost, like a little duckling following his mother, and Marinette coos internally at his dumbfounded expression.

The two don’t have guests often, but their friends have been over before. They figure out quickly that their little table and two chairs isn’t enough space for everyone to share a meal, much less hang out at, so they figured out their alternative. Jon pushes the table and chairs into a corner (they don’t need the chairs with only one guest) and then pushes the sofa back closer to the center of the room. It’s further from the television, but it gives him space to pull the coffee table away from it. The coffee table itself is lower to the ground, and much larger than their little dining table, so if they all sit around it on the floor, they can share a meal with friends – or family.

It’s not _that_ much adjusting. Just pushing things around a little, not nearly as major as when Marinette needs floor space to cut fabric, and Jon’s strength means it’s hardly an annoyance to set everything where it needs to be.

“So, did you _already_ piss of Dad, or did you just miss me?” Jon asks casually as he picks up the coffee table.

“I didn’t do anything.” Conner crosses his arms defensively.

Jon shakes his head slowly, standing from placing the coffee table down in its new place. “I didn’t mean it like that, bro. I was just teasing. Come on, sit. What made you decide to visit so soon?”

He plops down on the sofa, hesitant Conner following suit a moment later, and watches his brother expectantly. For a moment, Jon meets her eyes, a silent question overtaking his expression. Ordinarily, if they have breakfast at home, he helps cook. And that’s when they’re cooking for two. Marinette shakes her head. She’ll do this, Jon needs to focus on his brother.

She keeps an eye on them, though. Connor is distinctly uncomfortable here. “I’m sorry.” He says. “I should have called ahead.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jon says nonchalantly. “Marinette and I have classes in a couple hours, but we’re free until then.” Classes, and if Conner’s sticking around this afternoon Jon will have to ask his professor for a short extension on an assignment he planned to complete yesterday, but it should all work out. They’re definitely not cluing Conner in on that part. The last thing they need is for him to feel like he’s getting in the way of their university work. “And I said you’re always welcome here, didn’t I?”

That gets Conner to loosen up just a little. “I…” Conner starts. “I… I’m here to update you on the cover story. On how you suddenly found a new brother.”

_I don’t suppose anyone would believe if we said you fell from the sky._ Marinette thinks, snickering to herself.

“Ah, yeah, I saw the message when I was getting ready this morning. You’re sixteen, officially, were in California with adoptive parents until now. I assume those names were all aliases.”

“Think so.” Conner says.

“Adoptive parents died, you came here to be taken care of by your birth parents. Did I miss anything? I just skimmed it, honestly.”

“There’s some more details, but that’s the idea.”

“Cool. Real nice of you to come tell me that in person after you already sent the brief.” Jon says it in a friendly way, but it’s clear that Jon knows that isn’t the real reason Conner is here. “Your idea?”

Conner grits his teeth and crosses his arms again. “I… I wanted to ask you about Superman. And about Superboy. And… what happened.” Jon’s expression turns serious, but Conner, despite looking somewhere between angry and terrified, forges on. “All I know about you is what Cadmus taught me, and all _they_ know is the public stuff. No one ever said why you retired, some people are even still saying you’ll come back, but… you told me to use the name, so… you’re not coming back, are you?”

“No, Kon, I’m not.” Jon sighs heavily. “If you know all that public stuff, you already know that at first, the League just said I was on leave.” Conner nods stiffly. “I haven’t talked much with them since then, but I know them pretty well. I’m sure they were just trying to prevent a panic from Superboy disappearing suddenly. The truth is, it was a temporary leave at first. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, because I was raised to believe that fighting, using my powers for the good of the people, is the right thing to do. But… I honestly hated it. Fighting, I mean. It wore me down, until eventually I had to decide what I want my life to be. Mom convinced everyone to let me take a leave while I go to college. I was supposed to use my college years to decide my future. If I’d go back, or not.” He chuckles a little helplessly. “I think everyone expected me to come back within a few weeks.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I didn’t. My friend Damian told me once that it started because I felt safe enough to process everything. All the fighting. But… after I was away for a while… anytime I thought of going back, I’d start panicking. Not like- not like worry or anything like that. Like what you saw back at the farm. I freeze. I- uh, I’d rather not go into detail on exactly how it feels, but… I can’t fight anymore, even if I wanted to.” Jon shakes his head slowly. “But I don’t want to.” He grins at Conner’s near-horrified face. “I was only getting worse and worse towards the end of my time as Superboy. I’m happier now living a… well a peaceful life. So, no, I don’t intend to ever go back. I promised myself and Marinette that I wouldn’t ever fight again. And I intend to keep that promise. We’re pacifists now.”

“That’s… I’m sorry.” Conner looks to the floor. “That must be hard.”

Jon snorts. “Not when my old League friends aren’t trying to drag me back into it. Not anymore, anyway. You totally missed my whole ethics crisis phase.”

Conner winces, despite Jon’s attempt to lighten the atmosphere. His hands tremble and he bites his lip as he stares at the table. “I’m sorry.” He says. “If I didn’t start that fight, you wouldn’t have had that panic attack, I- I- you’re my-” Conner huffs, closing his eyes. His jaw and brow are set determinedly. “I’m not going to put you through that again. I’m sorry it happened once. I won’t make my brother feel that way.”

“Kon…” Jon’s gentlest voice carries through the room. “Don’t blame yourself for that. I knew what would happen, and I went anyway.”

Marinette rolls her eyes as she brings three plates of food to the coffee table. Conner seems to be trying hard to figure out a response, so Marinette uses the opportunity to interrupt. “Breakfast.” She says. “Eat up.”

“Ah! Thank you, Marinette!” Jon immediately leaps from the sofa to take a seat on the floor next to the table. “You’re the bestest ever!”

She giggles, bending down to kiss Jon’s head. “You’re cooking next time.” She murmurs, smiling at his laugh in reply.

Conner jumps, like he’s forgotten she’s there. “Oh. Thank you. You were there yesterday, too.”

“Of course, I was.” Marinette says. “I’m a lot like your brother. I was a hero for a long time. Started when I was a kid, too, though not quite as young as him. Put that life behind me, came to America for university. It was a stroke of luck that we ended up roommates.”

“Now she’s my girlfriend.” Jon beams proudly. “So, get used to her. She’s your sister-in-law.”

“We’re not married, Jon.”

“Have you seen us? We were married before we started dating.”

Marinette giggles, and, for the first time since he got here, Conner smiles. A small, weak one but a smile nonetheless. It falls quickly, though. “I can’t believe Superboy gave up being a hero. Just… like that.” Conner says quietly.

Jon lets out a sharp laugh. “Hey, that took _years_. I wouldn’t say it was just like that. Trust me, bro, it was hard. Worth it, though.” Marinette lets Jon take her hand and give her that same smile he had on Thanksgiving.

“Superman wants you to be a hero.” Conner says. “He doesn’t want me.”

Jon’s brow knits together. “Kon.” Jon touches his shoulder, drawing Conner’s eyes to his. Both the same blue, just a few shades deeper than Marinette’s own. “Do you want to be Superboy? Not me, Superboy, _you_ Superboy. Is being a hero something _you_ want to do?”

Conner awkwardly pushes his breakfast around the plate. “I… I was made to be a hero.”

“That doesn’t answer the question, Kon.” Conner flinches, but doesn’t say more, so Jon sighs and says. “It’s your life. Never forget that. I always thought I’d grow up to just be Dad, but look at me now. I had to decide my own path, and someday you will, too. If you want to be a hero, that’s fine. If you don’t, that’s okay, too. I’m your brother, and I’ll support you either way. And Dad?” Jon pauses for a moment. “He’s doing the best he can. You scare him, that’s the only reason he wouldn’t have told me about you. If you scare him that badly… it’ll take time for him to really accept you. But he will. And even if he doesn’t, your life is still yours. You don’t have to be him if you don’t want to, and he can’t stop you from using him as an example if that is what you want. Do you… sort of get what I’m saying?”

“I have to decide what I want to do.” Conner says.

Jon grins and throws an arm over Conner’s shoulder. “Yeah, but there’s no rush. You’re like, a month old, dude, you’ve got time to figure everything out.”

Conner glares at Jon, but makes no move to push him off. The expression quickly softens. “You’re… not at all like I expected.”

“Trust me, bro, when I look back at myself when I was Superboy, I think the same thing. Is it good or bad?”

“Good… I think.”

Jon beams brilliantly and roughly ruffles Conner’s hair, making him quickly rescind the statement.

* * *

Marinette slides into her seat. As usual, the professor isn’t here yet, but it’s not worth the walk home with only an hour between classes. Luckily, no one uses the room at this time block, so Marinette can sit down early and work on some sketches, or homework, if she needs it, or even just a bit of hand sewing.

She doesn’t expect Kasey and Louise to come in, both hesitating in the doorway with wide eyes like she’s some sort of ghost. Louise gently coaxes Kasey forward. “Hey, Marinette.” Louise says with a guarded smile.

Their countenances being so clouded puts Marinette on guard herself. “Hi. I don’t usually see you here, what’s up?”

Kasey fiddles with a pink pen in her hands. “Well, um… Have you heard from Sam recently?”

Marinette just raises a brow. _What could she say that you’re so afraid of?_ “No.” Marinette answers honestly. “I blocked her when she started harassing my boyfriend. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Like she’s flipped a switch, the tension drains out of the two other girls. “Oh, good.” Kasey says. “Uh, er, I mean- _not_ that it’s good that- I- aw…” She covers her face and ducks into Louise’s shoulder, groaning at herself.

Louise just smiles awkwardly, patting her back all the while. “We didn’t invite Sam back into the apartment this year.” She explains. “When it looked like you were willing to forgive what she said, we decided to do the same, but when we found out what she was trying to do with Jon… it crossed a line. It took a while to finalize everything, but we’ve basically cut contact with her. Last we heard, she blames you and threatened us that she’d ruin our friendship, like you ruined hers with us. Apparently, she was assuming that we’d cool off over the summer and forget about it. When she found out that we didn’t… We… aren’t sure yet what she’s planning.”

Marinette suddenly feels very weary. Who would have thought unnecessary drama would follow her right out of heroism (and _lycée_ ) and into normal university life. Maybe drama is less a kid thing and more a human thing?

If that’s the case, Marinette has never been more thankful for Jon’s Kryptonian heritage.

Then again, there is the whole “I’ve got a new sixteen-year-old brother created in a lab to kill or replace me, whichever comes first” thing, so maybe Kryptonian lives are actually even _more_ dramatic.

Only Jon is worth _that_ headache, no matter how cute a kid Conner is. And it really does put this kind of dumb, petty drama in perspective. Marinette sighs. “Guys, just forget about Sam. Trust me, she can’t do anything to me.” If Lila couldn’t, Sam definitely can’t. Lila is a _lot_ more frightening than her, and Marinette’s already beat her twice.

Kasey collapses heavily into the seat next to her. “I wish I could.” She whimpers. “But… Sam was my friend. I still can’t believe she did that in the first place.”

Marinette stops for a moment, frozen, and slowly sets down her pencil. Louise takes the seat in front of them, imploring Marinette silently with her eyes to do something, though Marinette sees deep within those eyes that Louise is hurt, too.

The truth is, Marinette is hurt, too. Betrayal is betrayal.

So, she carefully picks Kasey up off the desk and turns her around so that she can comb her hands through the other girl’s hair. Kasey relaxes into the touch just like Marinette used to when Adrien or Alya or Nino did the same for her way back when. “When I was in _collège_ ,” Marinette says gently, “back in Paris… that’s middle school here, though it went on into high school, there was a girl in my class called Lila.”

Louise leans close resting her head on the desk while Kasey frowns a little at the story. “Lila is…” Marinette licks her lips, searching for appropriate words. “A sad, sad girl. All she cares about is fame and attention and power, and to get that, she tells all sorts of lies. A lot of bragging about celebrity connections, charity work she claims to do to make her look good, that kind of thing. Plus, she lied about disabilities to get my classmates to do things for her. Anything from her homework to carrying her lunch tray.”

“Wow.” Louise says. “She sounds like a bitch.”

Marinette giggles. “I wouldn’t have called her that, we were just kids, after all, but given she made no effort to change even towards the end of _lycée_ … yeah, she was.” _Not to mention how she got worse, with Hawk Moth and the Miraculous._ Marinette has to shake the memories away. There’s no use lingering on that right now. “She’s a lot worse than anyone imagined, even me, but… that’s not why I’m telling you this. The point is that, early on, I figured out she was lying. I called her out. Because of that, she considered me a threat and did everything in her power to ruin me. She would plant evidence to accuse me of stealing, or cheating, make false claims of me attacking or bullying her, spread rumors about me, anything to make my life terrible. To prove that she can, and to punish me for defying her.”

“Definitely a bitch.” Louise mutters, quieter this time. Kasey makes a disgruntled noise of agreement.

“She threatened me with exactly the same thing Sam threatened you two with. She told me that she would take all my friends away, that I’d be all alone.” Marinette continues. “I won’t bore you with all the details of that whole thing, but… it was a tough time. There was more going on on top of everything, so I was already stressed, and the threat of losing my friends – _seeing_ them trust Lila even when I know she’s lying, take her side when I try to call her out on the lies… it was hard. But you want to know how it all ended?”

Kasey pulls away to look at her with determined, curious eyes. Probing eyes what hunger for the answers. Marinette appreciates that look. That drive for knowledge is a good trait to have. It reminds Marinette of Alya, much more tempered by logic now than when they first met but no less passionate. “How?” Kasey asks.

_She got arrested for being a supervillain._ Marinette smiles to herself and decides that bit of information isn’t strictly necessary to get her point across. “I’m still close friends with all my classmates from _collège_. None of us have heard of Lila in years.” Marinette chuckles. “Sam’s little stunt reminded me of Lila, honestly. Except Lila was a lot more threatening. Trust me, I’m way too familiar with that type of person to fall for her tricks. She has no control over our friendship. That’s something only we can control.” Marinette lifts up a fist, holding it out to Kasey and Louise. “Right?”

Kasey laughs, loud and bright and shiny like her, and crashes her own fist into Marinette’s. “Right!”

“Definitely.” Louise says, much more quietly, but with no less feeling, adding her fist to the group.

Marinette reaches out and pulls both girls into an awkward hug over the desk. “I miss Sam, too. Just because she showed her true colors doesn’t mean we didn’t think of her as a friend. But it’ll be alright, because we’ve still got each other.”

Marinette has to hold back a yelp (and Louise fails to) when Kasey throws her own arms around them all and squeezes tight. “You’re really something else, Marinette. I’m so glad we’re all friends.”


	16. It's the little things that separate the good from the great.

Superboy makes his debut with the Teen Titans, alarming many and confusing many more. Jon thinks it’s frankly ridiculous that _anyone_ is confused about the name being ascribed to a new teenage hero rather than twenty-two year old Jon considering that Robin exists, but, really, it’s not much of his business either way.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t strange, though.

Jon was sixteen once. Big for his age but still a bit smaller than Conner is now. Large muscles didn’t spare him the roundness of his face unlike Conner, who if he weren’t with the Titans might be confused for a few years older than he is. (Jon desperately tries not to think about the fact that Conner is, in truth, much, _much_ younger than even that.) Jon also never bothered with the gruff affectation that his little brother seems to adopt that ages him so, the cute huffiness (and not at all fake temper) that Jon knows hides a lonely kid just looking for approval.

After all, if that isn’t at Conner’s core, there’s no reason for Conner to keep visiting him. Jon isn’t a hero, he’s not Superboy, he has no information or advice for Conner to do his hero job. The only connection between them, really, is that Jon accepts the kid as his adorable little brother.

Sometimes it feels like Conner spends a little too much time at Jon and Marinette’s cramped apartment, considering New York and Jump City are on opposite coasts. Jon tries not to think too hard about that, and instead takes time with his little brother at face value. Something that gets harder when he finds out that despite the time Conner spends in New York with him, Superman essentially only sees Conner on the job.

Not that Jon himself is having much luck talking to Superman right now. Ever since Jon found out about Conner, his dad has been avoiding him. Easy to do, with Jon tied to New York for his classes, but not at all appreciated. Superheroes are damn tiring even when Jon isn’t one of them.

Jon spent his whole life trying to live up to the image of his father. The Man of Steel, Superman, some even call him a god among men. Jon grew up watching his dad on television. He still has videos of himself in action, filed away on his computer, both with and without his dad at his side. Jon knows, logically, that he’s younger than any of the Teen Titans in some of those videos, yet watching Conner jump into the fray as Superboy is a gut-wrenchingly visceral feeling to him regardless.

Because Jon sees Conner’s face and he sees the lost kid closing himself off at the farm, wary but hopeful, volunteering information up until the point of embarrassment when he’ll turn away and pout like a child because he doesn’t want to admit vulnerability. The pure joy and shock and awe in his face, how completely flabbergasted he is to simply be called brother. The uncertainty, the confusion, the respect shining in those eyes, the same as Jon’s own, when Jon admits why he isn’t Superboy anymore.

The little kid who wants family, and who wants to make his own way in life, who suddenly and inexplicably finds a brother who accepts him without thought (seemingly, to him – Jon ensures that’s what he sees), who does exactly the opposite of what’s expected of him for no other reason than that this is what he needs to do to be happy in his life.

Conner looks at Jon almost the same way Jon used to look at Superman, and Jon is doing everything he can to never let Conner see just how deeply that unnerves him.

It shouldn’t. It’s not the first time a young man has looked at Jon that way. When Jon was Superboy, he got looks like that all the time. And yet… there’s something so incongruous about watching Conner punch bad guys with the rest of the Titans on television, and that little boy that looks at _him_ with _that_ look. Because _that_ look makes every cell in Jon’s body scream at him to protect, to take Conner into his arms and never let the cruelty of the world touch him. But Jon can’t do anything for him when he goes out looking for that cruelty all on his own. All he can do is offer a home to return to, and a brother who undoubtedly loves him, no matter what else.

Conner’s attitude, the front he puts up when he works on missions with the Titans, when he’s on television, ages him several years, yet when Jon watches Conner still just looks so… _young_. It makes his insides squirm, and a voice deep within him rage at the memory that despite it being basically his own fault (because he surely would have gotten into trouble all on his own, especially with Damian dragging him around) _Jon himself_ was put into that position at _ten_. Jon distinctly remembers being upset because he was _too young_ to join the Teen Titans of the time.

Blame it on his newfound pacifism, but that thought is paralyzingly horrific to him now. _Why the hell did Dad allow it?_ Jon can’t help but think. Because even if Jon would still have gotten in trouble, if only at Damian’s behest, forbidding him from hero work would at least have _lessened_ the ridiculous number of terrible situations Jon was in. As a _child_. How strange, that Jon has to grow up so much for that thought to even occur to him. It seems like it should be obvious.

Or maybe it’s not age, so much as separation from hero life. He wonders if his view of the world seems as warped to them as theirs do now to him.

* * *

The boys are startlingly accepting of Conner. Jon really expects them to question it more, but after they are introduced to Conner when they all visit before the holidays, David turns to Jon and whispers in his ear, “So, your brother is totally baby, but also I think he could bench press me, so I’m really confused right now.”

Jesse scrunches up his nose. “Gross, dude, he’s a minor.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” David protests. “I mean look at him!”

Mason chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I get what you mean. He’s just like Jon.”

Jon makes a face. “What?”

“Exactly!” David says cheerily. “Totally baby, but also could throw me like a football.”

Jon just shakes his head at the boys. “I’m not baby.”

Tamias giggles, along with – the traitor – Marinette. “Sorry, Jon,” Tamias says, “you’re kind of baby.”

Jesse dramatically slaps a hand to his face. “Boys, boys, come _on_. You’re seriously missing Jon’s big himbo energy?”

Jon squeaks in indignant protest, but it’s David that comes to his defense. “Jon’s way too smart to be a himbo, dummy. _You’re_ a himbo.”

“I’m a mechanical engineer, dude!”

“That’s true, but also, and I mean this with every ounce of love my body possesses, you’re the dumbest man I’ve ever met.”

“Jesse’s a twig.” Mason snorts. “He can’t be a himbo if he’s a twink.”

“Thank you!” Jesse exclaims, huffing in finality for a moment before his eyes go wide once more with outrage. “Wait, _what_?! Rude, dude! I can be a himbo if I want to be!”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Boys!” All the boys immediately quiet to stare at her. “Jon and Tamias are obviously both baby. David, you’re a himbo.” David squawks with outrage, though his smile tells them all he’s not really upset. “Jesse’s a boi, and Mason’s a daddy.”

Jon actually, physically cringes. “Marinette, I love you with all of my heart, but please never say any of those words again. I’m begging you.”

Marinette just shoots him a look that seems to say, “Hey, they’re _your_ friends.” _God. I know._

David coughs conspicuously into hand. “She’s right though.”

Mason cackles and wraps one arm around Jon and the other around Tamias, bringing both of them close in a hug. “My children.” He says mockingly.

“I can crush your head with two fingers.” Jon warns, glaring at Mason, who just continues laughing at him.

“You can.” Mason agrees. “But you’re too baby to actually do it.”

Jon hates, with every fiber of his being, that Mason is absolutely right. “I hate everything about this conversation.” He says, peeling himself away from Mason. “I’m going to go find my baby brother.”

Jesse snickers. “ _Baby_ brother.”

“I hate all of you; oh my God.”

So, yeah. As Jon swiftly removes himself from _that_ conversation, it occurs to him that none of his boys seem to think twice about him suddenly having a little brother. It’s nice, he thinks, that not everything has to be a big federal issue all the time. This, and definitely _not_ the conversation Jon steps away from, is why he loves those guys.

The apartment is small. Too small, really, to be hosting any number of people comfortably, which is why Jon is glad that his boys, and the girls, who stop by earlier, are only dropping in rather than hanging out. Just a small visit before the holidays, to say hi, to steal some cake that Marinette makes (because they have to, of course), and swap presents (not to open until Christmas, which David is insistent applies to everyone, including the girls) then head back home.

When Jon casts his gaze through the place, Conner is nowhere to be seen. Which leaves four options. The bathroom, and given how Jon’s dad is also missing, Jon hopes that isn’t the case, that they leave the apartment entirely, and Jon is sure they will at least tell him when they do, Marinette’s room, which for their sakes they _better not_ be in, or Jon’s own room. Jon doesn’t mind that. It is a lot of people in a small space with all the boys over, so he’s not surprised Conner ducks out after meeting them.

Why his dad follows, however, is a different question. Judging by the growl on Conner’s lips when Jon opens the door, it’s not something that spells peace and unity for their family.

Luckily, the two of them apparently learn their lesson from the first time, and as soon as they have Jon’s judging gaze upon them, they both duck their heads in apparent shame. Jon just sighs, closes the door behind him, crosses his arms and arches his brow.

“Clark has been avoiding me.” Conner rats out their dad quickly, then amends the statement. “Us.” Conner crosses his arms, fingers digging into his biceps. Jon tries not to wince at how Conner’s knuckles turn white. “If he doesn’t want me around, he should just say so.”

“Conner,” Clark protests, “that’s not-”

“I’m sorry.” Conner says quietly, directly to Jon. “It’s because of me that you aren’t getting along with him now, too, isn’t it?”

Jon takes a steadying breath. “No, Kon. It has nothing to do with you.”

Conner’s eyes go wide for a moment. “But-”

“I’m pissed at Dad because he kept you hidden from me for a month. And because he’s been avoiding _talking about it_ since then.” Jon glares at his dad for emphasis. It’s almost pitiful how Superman can look so small, especially in the face of his own son. “None of that is your fault, Kon.”

“But I-”

Jon marches right up to his little brother and throws his arms around him in a big hug. “It’s not your fault.” Jon says again. “You haven’t done anything wrong, so don’t convince yourself you have.”

As Conner’s arms slowly wrap around Jon in response, Jon narrows his eyes. Casting his gaze sideways, he swears his dad is just a little closer to the door than he was. Whether he is or is not trying to sneak out, though, doesn’t matter. He freezes under Jon’s watch.

Jon separates from Conner, looks him in the eye and nods, satisfied that Conner looks a little better, and then turns fully to his dad. “And how long did you think you could get away with ignoring me?”

Clark rubs his neck awkwardly. “Jon, it’s almost time to leave. We shouldn’t-”

“What?” Jon scoffs. “Shouldn’t talk this out? Consider it a Christmas present, then.”

“You have guests over. Now isn’t the time.”

Jon taps his foot. “Kon?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Will you please go let Mom and Marinette know what’s happening? Marinette can handle the boys until they leave if we’re not out by then.” Honestly, they’ll be so distracted by Marinette’s baking that they probably won’t even notice how long this’ll take. Jon doesn’t intend for it to be long.

Conner looks between him and Clark, indecision clear on his face, but eventually he nods and scurries out the door. _Good._ Jon thinks. _Probably better if he’s not listening, anyway._ When Conner closes the door again, Jon waits just a moment before turning back to his dad. Finally, without his baby brother watching, Jon breaks down just a little. A tremor in his voice, a shake in his frame. “Why?” Jon asks. “Why would you do… any of this? Especially with Kon. Don’t you see that he _needs_ you? I can’t- I can’t be his dad _and_ his brother I- I’m doing what I can, but…”

Clark shakes his head sadly, shamefully. “I’m so sorry, Jon.”

“Kon deserves the apology.” Jon says through gritted teeth. “You hurt him a lot more than me.”

Clark grimaces. “But I did hurt you.” He says. “And I’m sorry. I know I should have told you about Conner as soon as we found him, I just… I was scared. He was an unknown; there was no way to know he wasn’t a threat – I couldn’t just welcome him into the family if there was a chance he’s trying to hurt us. And I especially couldn’t let him hurt you.” Jon grits his teeth, biting back every retort in his throat. The shame and sincerity in his father’s voice deserve to be listened to. “You wanted to put this life behind you, and if Conner tried to target you…” He sighs heavily and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

Jon’s eyes and throat sting. Still, he says, “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t have the exact same fears? Did you ever- ever even _look_ at Kon? He _needs_ you. I don’t care where he came from or even if he is… _programmed_ , or whatever, to hurt us. He’s a kid, and he _needed_ you, and you…” Jon forces out a sharp breath and draws a new one in. “I know you don’t really understand what I’m doing. I know you don’t _get_ the way that I’m trying to live. And I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me, but how on Earth could you think that I wouldn’t want to meet him?”

“I knew you would.” Jon’s dad protests. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d find him, and I couldn’t risk dragging you into this again.” His eyes shadow as he averts his gaze. “I already did that once, and because of that, you still have nightmares. Panic attacks. I hurt you, maybe permanently, so bad that you had to give up being a hero entirely, because I wasn’t a good enough father. I just… wanted to protect you. I didn’t ever want to see you… like that day on the farm.”

Jon stares at his dad, unable to utter a word. _That’s_ what this is about? He blames himself for Jon’s trauma?

“I keep thinking about what I should have done different.” His dad continues quietly. “And I just- it seems like every option was the wrong one. I- I don’t know where I went wrong. All I ever wanted is what’s best for you. And now Conner keeps trying to… connect. And I just keep thinking that I’m going to let him down, too.”

“ _Dad_.” Jon’s plea comes out more like a choked sob. “I never blamed you for that.”

Jon doesn’t say any more than that. Just that one small, weak little statement. He doesn’t say any more not because he has no elaboration or nothing else to say, but because no more words allow themselves to cross the threshold of his throat.

Jon might mention how he often thinks about his father’s choices, and ponders if they were really wise, or even good. He might mention how angry he gets, thinking about not just himself and Conner, but all the young heroes who fight battles even grown adults should never have to go through. He might mention how, once upon a time, he idolized Superman just as much as the most devout of Metropolis, how he wanted nothing more than to _be_ Superman, and how nowadays it’s not that he just _can’t_ be Superman but that he actively doesn’t want to.

But he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say any of it, because just like saying that he still thinks about the possibility of Conner being a sleeper agent will hurt Conner to an impossible degree if he hears it, if Jon says any of that right now, any of that equally true and valid thought that lingers in his head, it will tear his father apart.

It would be possibly the most violent thing Jon will ever do. Punches and kicks hurt, but this? That’s why he won’t. That’s why he can’t. That’s why he says the thing that he can, even if it’s not enough. Because that is also true. As much as Jon doubts his dad’s decisions, as angry as he is at his own childhood of danger and strife, even when he occasionally allows that anger to be directed _at_ his dad, Jon never has and never will blame him for it.

Jon’s trauma, everything he’s seen and been through… some of it may have been avoidable, yes, but the worst of it? The parts that haunt him? That, he thinks, was inevitable. Based on his own personality, his own dream of being just like his dad, that was never his dad’s fault. If anything, his dad has always erred on the side of caution with him. It’s only after he slips out (with or without Damian’s help) and does it anyway that Jon’s dad corrects the rules to let him do those things he would do without guidance otherwise as safely as he can.

Maybe he was too accommodating? Maybe too sentimental, too hung up on his own struggles of growing up without an outlet to use his powers? Maybe he just made mistakes? But he did his best. He kept Jon as safe as he could, and Jon has never been anything but thankful for that.

Nothing else _needs_ to be said. “I never blamed you for that.” Jon repeats, stepping forward to hug his dad tightly. He doesn’t blame his dad for that. Not any more than he blames Marinette for being Ladybug once upon a time.

“I-” Strong arms wrap around him in return, one of the most familiar embraces Jon knows. “Thank you, Jon. That means… more than you know.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Dad.” Jon mumbles. “I know- I know everyone expects Superman to be, but you don’t have to. I love you, and Kon just wants the chance to love you, too. That’s all.”

Clark laughs, half pride and half disbelief. “When did you grow up into such a smart young man?”

Jon laughs as well. “Marinette helped.”

Clark holds that glimmer in his eyes even as he sighs. “You’re right. I’m… I’m going to talk to Conner. I’m going to be there for him.”

“You were always there for me.” Jon says. “So, I know you will.”

* * *

Jon is pleasantly surprised by just how calm the holidays are. Unlike the first two years, he’s not stressing at all for his finals before them – he is on top of his work from day one. Conner showing up does momentarily throw his schedule off, but at this point Jon is nothing if not adaptable. He doesn’t let it affect his studies.

Of course, he does owe a lot of that to Marinette and, oddly enough, Wayzz (the little kwami is heaven sent for reminding him to stay on top of his responsibilities, honestly, especially when Marinette is too busy with her own to spare the time to help him) but he isn’t _totally_ irresponsible on his own. Even if he were, three years of Marinette looking out for him from the beginning is more than enough to get him into good habits of his own.

He just forgets, sometimes. Marinette does, too, but when she spends too long watching television, or engrossed in a book or her sketching, Jon is happy to return the favor.

Wayzz, their ever-watchful guardian, and on occasion Tikki, are by far the most consistently responsible ones, but then they’re not the ones that actually have to _do_ the work.

But finals come and go and Jon has to say goodbye to Marinette for the holidays and, when he does part ways with her at the airport, Jon suddenly feels so incredibly lonely that he could cry right there. It’s so stupid of him. They part with much less fanfare every other year, and it’s not as if she wasn’t important to him from the start, but… now, her plane doesn’t even take off yet and he _misses_ her so terribly. It’s like the moment she crosses that security line, Jon is left all alone in the airport. It feels as if even the many, many people making their ways to and fro aren’t even there. He feels completely and utterly alone.

He supposes he’s just too used to her company now. He felt the same before summer, too. Too used to her hand in his, or her looping her arm around his, or just the steady beat of her heart. Now that that rhythm is gone…

Jon shakes his head and moves on. He’ll visit soon, just after Christmas like last year. They can have a romantic date like their first, and it’ll mark a full year for them. (Jon still isn’t _totally_ sure whether their technical anniversary should be Thanksgiving, the first day back from Thanksgiving, or that day not long after Christmas, but nonetheless the holiday season has one more thing for him to celebrate.)

It’s during the holidays, sitting out on his tree and staring at the stars, that Jon realizes that next semester is the last one. Only one more semester of college, then he graduates and… then what? He laughs at himself, shaking his head. All that soul-searching, all that trouble, all that drama, and now, closing in on his last semester in school, he _still_ has no idea what he’s truly going to do after.

It’s got to be a joke, at this point. There’s nothing to do but laugh, really. He knows he’s going to stay with Marinette, if she’ll let him, and she’s got a much more solid career plan laid out, so he’s just going to have to consult with her. At the very least, she can tell him what city he’s going to be looking for jobs in. Paris? It wouldn’t be so bad. Marinette’s friends are awesome, and it’d give Jon a good excuse to put the French he’s learning to actual use (though, if that’s the plan, he should practice with Marinette a _lot_ more in the upcoming few months). His family will be far, yes, and it’ll be far easier for him to visit home than for everyone to visit him, but it will be pretty easy for him to visit.

Or maybe even Metropolis? Or New York? Maybe they can find another small apartment right next to the garment district. Hell, maybe they can just keep on staying in the apartment they’ve been renting for three and a half years already. (Well, Marinette won’t have FIT to work and store all her projects at, so they’ll have to get her a studio, or just a larger apartment, but they can figure that out.)

Whatever way, the question doesn’t weigh too heavily on him anymore. He’s not scared of it like nineteen-year-old Jon was. In fact, he’s _excited_. He can see the stars, every star, each one a possibility, but he’s narrowed down his search enough. He’s staring directly at Hercules, and once upon a time that might bother him, but not anymore. Because he’s comfortable now. He still can’t bear getting into a fight, he still has nightmares, his gut still turns at getting to close to heroism as he grew up knowing it, but… that’s not all there is to being a hero.

Hercules isn’t Perseus. The word “hero” doesn’t mean Superman, or Batman, or Wonderwoman, or any of the people who go out dispensing justice with their fists. Hero can mean anything to anyone. Marinette pulled him from a dark place, she gave him a home when he was so close to rejecting the one he had, when he was trying so hard to find one of his own. She stands with him, comforts him, reminds him to turn his light on when he’s studying on his computer after the sun goes down, brews a cup of tea for him when he needs it, or coffee if that’s what he needs instead (usually, she knows better than he does), nags him about the shoes he hasn’t forgotten to take off for a long time, makes dinner for him when his classes run later than hers so that he can focus on studying.

Marinette is, without a doubt, a hero. And even if neither of them are fond of the term, so much so that Jon will never speak it aloud, that doesn’t make the term any less apt. Jon only wishes he can find the words to tell her how ardently he loves her. Thanksgiving was a good attempt, but now that they’re together properly, especially because they’re together properly, he has to keep saying it.

(After all, he thinks, he already plans to spend his life with her, so… if they get married, he’s going to need his vows to be perfect, won’t he? But that’s thinking far too far ahead for now. No, now, he just needs to remind her how important she is.)

His most recent opportunity to do just that was when Thanksgiving came a second time. It’s a perfect time to fluster her the same way he (inadvertently) did back at last year’s Thanksgiving. It’s clumsy and inelegant, just like the first time, and he repeats a lot of what he said that time, too, but the effect it has on Marinette is just the same as well. And Jon just grins like a fool because he’s never been happier in his life. He doesn’t mess up _this_ Thanksgiving starlight kiss. Not a chance.

Then the next semester starts, they’re back in their tiny apartment in New York, Marinette is giggling over a faux-leather jacket she makes for Conner that Jon admits works with his personality, and a pair of faux-leather _pants_ for him that just leave him gawking at Marinette wondering if she wants him to strip in them or something. (He’s assuaged that it’s just a joke, though the thought lingers sinfully in his mind, and he’s _entirely unsure_ how he feels about it. He does wear them, _just once_ , because he loves her, though. She’s allowed a picture under strict confidence that Jon’s boys _never ever see it_ , though he feels so awkward wearing them that he’s sure the picture isn’t great anyway.)

Of course, even though the pants are just a joke for Marinette’s giggles, the “gift” still starts another gift war (Motivated primarily by Jon knowing how much fabric costs. The pants aren’t real leather, thankfully, but that still can’t be a cheap joke. Jon begrudgingly adds them to his closet and wears them on rare occasions for that reason alone – they _do_ look good, if not his usual style, especially as he slowly gets more comfortable in them – despite Marinette’s insistence that it’s unnecessary). Jon makes his grandma teach him to bake over the summer and holidays and he has recipes to shower Marinette with, so it’s a perfect opportunity to use them. This gift war eventually ends when the both of them decide they don’t want to get fat from eating baked treats all day every day. Even with them sharing with all their friends, they have a bit of a surplus. Their friends, needless to say, mourn the day this particular gift war ends.

That’s life, though, isn’t it?

Well into his final semester, Jon is frowning at the chessboard set up on their table, contemplating his next move, taking a sip of his tea (which Marinette gets him into – tea is _great_ , actually), when his opponent says, “I am curious. Do you still believe the _Girod_ to be an impossible ideal?”

Jon blinks at the kwami perched on the edge of the teacup on the other side of the table. Wayzz shoots him a knowing smile, which drops when Jon makes his move on the chessboard. “Yes.” Jon answers honestly. “Why?”

Wayzz hums a little, floating up higher to get a better view of the board. He moves his piece before he says, “I’m simply wondering. I never did ask; if you believe it’s impossible to achieve, why strive for it at all?”

Jon bites his lip, torn between the next chess move and his answer to the question. “Well…” Jon says, reaching for a piece but hesitating. “To me, it’s not so much that I need to… exemplify the _Girod_. Frankly, even if that _is_ how people were on Krypton, I’m not a proper Kryptonian, anyway.”

“You do not feel a desire to keep Krypton’s culture alive?”

“…Not particularly.” Jon takes another sip of his tea and decides on his move. “I know I’m studying it, and it _is_ interesting, but… I don’t know. Maybe Aunt Kara will be mad at me for saying this, but… it’s pretty much just academic to me. Despite all the powers and my heritage and all, I’ve never really had a connection to Krypton. It was destroyed before I was even born. There’s definitely value in learning about it, and I _am_ into it as a subject for study, but I’m not going to change the way I live just because Kryptonians did something a different way. I’d never be happy just emulating history.”

“A thoughtful answer.” Wayzz says sagely. He takes his turn and returns to his own teacup to take a drink. “Then why bother with the _Girod_ at all?”

“Because there’s value in it.” Jon says. “Even if I don’t believe it’s possible to be all those things at once, even if it’s impossible to be wholly virtuous, that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying for, don’t you think? It… gave me direction when I needed it. Marinette helped, too, obviously, but it was something to hold on to.” Jon frowns at the board, reluctantly making his move. “Maybe I don’t need it anymore. Honestly, I can’t tell if it’s too soon or not to stop trying for it, but… the _Girod_ gives me virtue outside of heroism. Used to be that I thought I _had_ to be a hero, because Dad’s what’s good, and Dad taught me that being good means getting involved and helping anyone I can, and that because I have these powers, that means that I have to be a hero to be good.

“…Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think he really meant it that way.” Jon says. “But I was just a kid learning all that, so it was easy to confuse. The _Girod_ was my… ethics guidelines that I can use without the need to run off and save the day all the time. Really, it was just an excuse so that I can stop calling myself a bad person for stopping hero work. But…”

Wayzz nods slowly. “There is value in it.”

“Yeah. Even if I’m not trying to live like a Kryptonian, I think there’s room in my life for truth, and justice, industriousness, peace, blah, blah, blah.” Jon waves a hand dismissively, chuckling just a little. “And hope. Hope is really important.”

“Hm.” Wayzz moves another piece. “Good thing Marinette is always carrying it around, then, yes?”

Jon’s mind immediately conjures the image of the delicate silver “S” hanging from Marinette’s neck. The symbol of hope, and also of his family. His cheeks warm, but he smiles and nods and sips his tea calmly despite that. “Yeah. It’s great.”


	17. Despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved that you and Jon actually realized you’re in love with each other. I’ve been hanging out with Tamias recently and, _God_.”

Marinette rolls her eyes at her friend. “It wasn’t like that. It’s not like I was secretly pining since I met him. Or, not-so-secretly.” She snorts good-naturedly, thinking of the boys.

Louise loudly guffaws. “Marinette, you two were so transparent from the moment we met you. There’s _no way_ you weren’t already in love with him then.”

“I wasn’t! I loved him, yeah, but not like that.” Marinette pouts a little. “Just because I fell in love with him later doesn’t mean we were _always_ in love. We really were just friends. Our pining lasted like, two days.”

Kasey smirks mischievously. “I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to defend it when you’re literally dating him now, but go off, I guess. You were married from the moment you moved in together. I bet.”

“We’re good roommates.” Marinette rolls her eyes. “And we had our share of problems. And I wasn’t in love back then. When we met, I was still dating Adrien, you know, and it took a long time to get over him. No, I fell in love with Jon when he brought me out into a starlit field on Thanksgiving and made me a heartfelt speech about how much I mean to him. I mean, I’m not made of stone! Who _wouldn’t_ fall in love when he does that?”

Kasey groans loudly. “That’s so freaking cute, oh my god. I hate that I know that Jon is exactly the kind of person who would do that.”

Louise giggles even more, covering her mouth with her hand. “I hate that he totally did that without even thinking about it being romantic. I bet he fell in love with you at the same time, didn’t he?”

Marinette is loath to admit it, but… “Yes. That’s exactly how it happened.”

The other girls cackle at the thought and, wiping a tear from her eye, Kasey says, “Now, if only David and Tamias could have a starlit romp through a field.”

“Heavens no.” Marinette says immediately. “David and fields? We don’t want to start wildfires.”

“What is with him and fire, anyway?” Louise asks. “He’s not even a pyrotechnic; things just _happen_.”

“We don’t question it.” Marinette answers. “We just try to minimize the damage.”

“Probably smart.” Kasey says. “He’s got an internship this semester, right? I hope everything catching fire around him doesn’t affect that too bad.”

“Seems to be going alright so far, though Jon would know better than me.” Marinette hums. She sits back, thinking about David’s internship and the seemingly unanimous worry about what comes after college. It’s the last semester for most of them. That thought is still surreal to Marinette. It feels like just yesterday she packed her bags for her very first trip to American soil. “Can you guys believe we’re going to graduate?”

Both girls groan loudly. “It’s so exciting!” Kasey says, though her voice is less enthused than her words. “But also, I’m _terrified_.”

Louise nods sagely. “I feel like I haven’t learned nearly enough to have a degree!”

Marinette giggles. “Are you going for a Master’s, then?”

Louise nods. “If I can afford it. I’m still budgeting, but my job right now is pretty good, so it should be fine. What about you?”

“Maybe.” Marinette says. “Honestly, I haven’t given much thought to what happens after graduation. I’ll have to talk to Jon about what his plans are, but… yeah, I’ll probably work on my Master’s. Depending on what we decide, I might do that somewhere else, though. I don’t know if Jon wants to go back to Metropolis, or what.”

Kasey coos. “You’d follow him to Metropolis?”

Marinette shrugs. “Why not? Metropolis may not be Paris or New York, but they’ve still got a flourishing fashion scene. It’s not like I’m just following my boyfriend – I can see a future in my career there, too, so right now, since I don’t have it all figured out yet, it’ll work just as well as staying here. Or even going back to Paris. I’m not sacrificing anything doing that, and frankly I think it’d be cool to live in Metropolis, even if it’s just for a while. You know?”

“I totally understand.” Kasey nods eagerly.

Louise giggles. ‘Plus, if Jon is planning on a writing job, he’ll have a much harder time in Paris trying to do that in French.”

“His French is actually pretty good!” Marinette says in his defense. “I’ve been practicing with him, and he’s been at it for more than a year now, so he’s not that bad. You’re right, though. He hasn’t had a firm idea for what kind of job he wants, not that he’s told me, anyway, so if he’s planning on just joining the reporting scene like his parents, even just as a temporary job, it’ll be much more difficult for him in Paris. At least, more difficult than designing will be for me in America.” Marinette hums, holding a hand to her chin. “Something else to consider, I guess.”

“Sounds like you and he need to talk about it.” Kasey says. “You’re running out of time, fast.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Marinette signs. “What about you, though? Any plans for a graduate degree?”

Kasey flushes a little and shakes her head. “N-no. I’m still just worried about finding a job.”

Louise pats her back gently. “Easily the worst part.” She says. “The job search _sucks_. But you’ll get through it!”

Marinette groans in agreement. _I need to remember to thank Uncle Jagged again._ She thinks. Even with her name tied to his giving her massive opportunity within the industry, looking for jobs still sucks. She’s so fortunate to have consistent (celebrity, no less) clients, so she’s sitting pretty well working on commission. But she does want a more stable income just for future-proofing. She even has the luxury of, what she’s thinking of doing, trying to start her own label right out of the gate instead of working for a brand first.

It probably would have been smarter to keep her identity secret until she set that all up and use Jagged’s announcement to prop up her new label, but… that’s hindsight, Marinette supposes. Jagged Stone is still big enough that she’ll turn heads when she does announce it regardless.

Either way, she’s keeping her options open for now. But she’s so lucky. The only reason she’s even looking for jobs is the option and experience – she doesn’t _need_ it. Marinette tries her best to appreciate that.

She definitely needs to talk with Jon, though. Which she will do, if tests don’t murder her first.

To be fair, midterms aren’t all bad. Marinette has a good groove going – she nails it down during their third year so this is just slight alterations here and there to adjust for this semester’s schedule. Still, she can see that diploma and she sure as hell is not going to slack off and let herself lose it now.

Plus, they have a whole semester. Yes, they need to plan and prepare, but it’s not _that_ urgent just yet. Despite how graduation seems to loom over them, it’s still months away. It makes it a little too easy to put the talk out of her mind and focus only on the more immediately approaching tests.

That said, Marinette knows it’s irresponsible to keep putting it off. Marinette is reminded of it regularly when Tikki brings it up during their chats. Wayzz reminds her often, too, but if Tikki, who only gets out of the Miracle Box much more sparingly these days, uses her valuable time with Marinette to worry over it, it must be worse than Marinette thinks.

Then again, it is Tikki, so maybe not. Tikki’s a chronic worrier, after all.

But Marinette ends up surprised when it’s Jon that brings the subject up. They’re on their sofa, playing a video game together, when Jon says suddenly, “I keep meaning to ask, what’re you planning to do after graduation?” Marinette blinks up at him for a moment, because despite the question being on her mind, it’s still unexpected now. “I mean,” Jon chuckles awkwardly, “I know you’re already making a living off designing, so maybe nothing much will change there? But, uh… are you going to move back to Paris?”

Marinette smiles gently. “I was actually meaning to ask you that.” She sighs. “Someday after graduation I’m going to start a label. I need to get people and get all the prep work done for that, and I’m probably not going to work too hard on starting that until graduation, so that’s a while off, and I was thinking of working on a Master’s degree, but… as for _where_ , I was going to ask you. I can make my label anywhere, and I can live off commission until I get that sorted, but since I don’t know what kind of job you’re looking for, I was thinking you’d probably decide where we go.”

Jon flushes red. “You were? I- oh. I thought since you had everything all figured out already, I’d just go where you do and find a job there.”

Marinette flushes as well at him saying so directly that he plans to follow her wherever she decides to go. It’s something they both already understand, of course, but they rarely voice that particular thought. _Have we ever said that aloud?_ That they’ll move to an entirely new city just to be with the other? When Marinette thinks too hard about it, it seems more grand a gesture than it feels. Really, it’s more like… Jon’s home, so if he’s in Metropolis, that’s home, too. It’s not a big deal. Yet, when he says the same thing, it feels so major. “Oh.” She says. “Well, what kind of job were you thinking of?”

Jon shrugs. “I don’t know, honestly. I mean, dream job, you know what would be really cool?” Jon perks up cutely and grins at the thought. “Working in a museum. It’d be so cool just to be surrounded by all the artifacts all the time. Do research, and educate people… I don’t know. I haven’t thought too much about it, but that sounds neat, doesn’t it?”

“You’re volunteering at a museum, aren’t you?” Marinette asks.

Jon grins. “Yeah, for class. That’s what made me think of it! It’s actually a lot of fun. Though, in the meantime, I do still like writing. It’ll probably be easier for me to get a job at a newspaper or something because of my parents. That’s an option, too.”

Marinette hums. “Well, if you’re going to write, you probably don’t want to do that in French.”

Jon grimaces. “I didn’t even think about that.”

Marinette just giggles. “So that’s a reason to stay in America, I guess.”

“If you want to go home, you shouldn’t let me stop you. I can figure something out.” Jon says earnestly. “I’m fine living in Paris, I promise. My French isn’t _that_ bad anymore, right?”

Marinette shakes her head fondly. “Of course not. You’re fluent enough to work there if you have to, and you’ll only get better if you do, but do you have a preference?” She asks. “Do you want to go back to Metropolis, or to Paris, or somewhere else?”

Jon makes a face and shrugs. “Honestly? Not really. So long as I’m with you, I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t ask if you’d be fine.” Marinette rolls her eyes. “I know you’ll be fine. I asked if you have a preference.”

Jon blushes again and shakes his head. “No, I don’t.” He says firmly. “I promise. I can see myself living… well, maybe not anywhere, but any of our three cities.” He leans in close to her touching her nose with his as he grins at her. “Or on a farm.”

Marinette kisses him quickly before pushing him away, laughing at his stunned expression. Apparently, whatever he expected from teasing her with that farm comment wasn’t that. “As beautiful as the farm is, I think I would prefer living in a city, if it’s all the same to you.”

Jon just shrugs, smiling goofily all the while. “Works for me. Maybe we can save the farm for retirement.”

There’s a thought. Since she was little, Marinette imagined so many different futures for herself. From childhood to old age. But she can truly, honestly say that not one of those daydreams involves spending her old age with her goofball husband in the American countryside. Then again, none of them involve living anywhere but Paris; she always assumed that she’ll spend her whole life there.

But thinking about it, there is an idyllic appeal to the thought. _Ha, maybe._ She shakes her head. More than the thought of some pastoral life on a farm, it’s the thought of Jon planning to retire together with her that brings heat to Marinette’s cheeks.

She has a more immediate future to think about, though. “What do you think about staying in New York?” She asks. “We’ve both got friends here, even considering the ones that are probably going to move away after graduation. Maybe it’s the safe option, but I’ve already dropped my life to move to a new city once already.”

Jon snickers playfully. “You mean you got it all out of your system? No desire at _all_ to move to China next?”

“Don’t tempt me.” Marinette giggles.

“New York sounds great, though.” Jon says, more seriously. “I like it here.”

“Me too. And it doesn’t have to be permanent. If we decide we want to move somewhere else later down the line, we can always still do that. But at least we know what we’ll do right out of university.”

Jon chuckles to himself. “Just know that I’m working on Kryptonian after I get comfortable with French. If you drag us to China, you’re going to be the one doing the talking.”

Marinette smacks his arm. “I’m not going to drag you to China.” She says. “…For more than a visit, anyway. I _do_ have family there, you know. But I want in on Kryptonian lessons. That sounds like a lot of fun. You going to have your Aunt Kara teach you?”

“That’s the plan.” Jon says “There’s some old educational stuff in the Fortress of Solitude that we’re going to use as reference, but she’ll be in charge since she already knows it. I’ll tell her you’ll be joining us when we do start that. It’ll be nice to have you to talk with, too, like we do with French. Otherwise, I’ll pretty much never use it.”

“I can’t wait.” Marinette smiles at him. “That should be exciting.”

“Definitely.”

The conversation lulls, and Marinette is happy. They finally have that conversation about where they’re going after graduation, so that’s a weight off her shoulders, and she’s happy regardless just to lean into Jon’s side and play video games quietly with him.

“Is it weird,” Jon says suddenly, after a while, “that I think of New York as home? At least as much as the farm or Metropolis. Maybe more.”

Marinette shrugs. “This is our fourth year here. Probably not. It’s home for me, too, either way.”

Jon hums, a deep vibration in his chest that Marinette can feel from where she lays against him. “I’m glad we’re staying. I didn’t even realize until now, and maybe it’s silly, but… New York feels like _our_ place. If that makes any sort of sense. Paris and Metropolis are Ladybug and Superboy’s places, but New York is Marinette and Jon.” He hums a little more and nuzzles into Marinette’s hair. “I like Marinette and Jon.”

Marinette chuckles, feeling her cheeks flush even as she adjusts to press even closer to him. “I think I get what you mean. New York is where our new life is. Sort of like we left our hero lives behind in our old cities. If we went back, it’d be a new life in an old home. Wouldn’t be bad, and we could make our home there if we want to, but…”

“But it’s not the same.” Jon agrees. “We’re already home. We don’t need to move.”

“Yeah. I feel the same way.” She looks up at him. “I love you, Jon.”

“I love you, too.” He kisses her tenderly, with that soft, gentle crescent of a smile that says so much more in so much less than his brightest, most beaming of smiles.

* * *

“Jon.” Marinette says suddenly, jumping up from her seat. “Jon, oh my god.”

Jon perks up, shifting quickly into alert mode from the tone of her voice. “What? What is it?”

Marinette takes another moment to consider the thought that occurs to her, to verify it, and grabs his shirt. “Nothing. Nothing is happening. No big revelation, no genetically engineered siblings, no catty high-school drama, no tragedy – dude our last semester is _normal_!” Marinette puts a hand to her head, still reeling from the thought. “So that’s what it feels like.”

Jon releases a breathy laugh. “Don’t jinx it! Besides, I wouldn’t say _nothing_ happened. Mercury passed in front of the sun. The astronomy professor at my school let me look through her telescope. It was pretty cool.”

“Jon, you absolute dweeb, you know that’s not what I mean.”

Jon starts cackling. “Were’d you even learn the word dweeb? I mean, you’re right, but who says that anymore?”

“Television.” Marinette says seriously. “But I’m serious here!”

“Me too.” Jon says. He wraps her up in his arms comfortably, chuckling all the while. “It’s not really the first time, is it? I mean, we don’t have _that_ bad of a track record, all things considered.”

Marinette thinks about it more, trying to piece the timeline back together. “Huh, I guess so. It’s like good, bad, then bad – but just for me, I think? – then bad at the start but good for most of it, then good, then Sam, then whatever the hell last semester was. Is that a pattern? Second semesters have drama? Oh, god, is the drama just waiting for graduation?!”

“Marinette, I love you,” Jon’s voice is cool, grounded, sturdy, “but do not catastrophize right now. The last thing we need is bad vibes on our last semester. It’s our last semester! We’ve got it figured out! So, if some stupid call to action comes knocking at our door between now and graduation, what do we do?”

“Tell it to shut up, because we’ve got to study.” Marinette says with a small smile, pressing her head to Jon’s. “You’re right. Let’s keep this going.”

Jon chuckles softly. “To be fair, Sam was perfectly ordinary drama, and Kon had basically nothing to do with us. Not- not him being born, anyway. He’s my brother, obviously, so he- eh, you know what I mean.”

“Not our fault.” Marinette chants quietly. “Not our fault. Not our fault.”

Jon giggles and joins in, echoing the chant until it becomes a cheer and they’re both incapacitated by their giggles.

He’s right. Despite the bad parts, when Marinette examines her university career a little closer it becomes clear that, by and large, she does exactly what she set out to do. Especially as Jon and she get better at dealing with conflict, figure themselves out, and establish themselves into this life they build for themselves, even though certain things should be so much more monumental – like Conner showing up compared to what is arguably the worst time in her university life, the reveal of Jon being Superboy – it doesn’t really feel like it.

Maybe it’s because they’re both more comfortable, and because they grow enough to be equipped to handle those things, in their own way. Maybe it’s because of the strength she finds in him, that they find in each other. Maybe it’s because she’s happy in a way that she wasn’t back then that everything else seems so much more pedestrian and simpler to deal with.

It doesn’t really matter why. Marinette is just grateful that her life has gotten to this point. All because of Jon.

They’re sitting together in a park, a quiet, overcast day taking a respite from their studies, when Jon catches her off guard. “I love you, you know.” Jon says quietly, with so much feeling in his voice that Marinette thinks he must be pondering the same thing she is, how appreciative she is that he’s here. It’s a small, intimate moment between the two of them, cuddled together in the park. Jon is so good at moments like these. He always manages to leave Marinette breathless. She adamantly refuses to believe he’s just as stunned and overwhelmed as she, even when she can see it transparently on his face, because he always, _always_ comes around with something so damn sweet and meaningful that- “It’s because of you that New York is home. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you, so thank you, Marinette, for helping me be someone I really love.” Something like that. “And for being yourself – another person that I really, really love.”

Marinette cups his face in her hands. “Don’t make me cry in public, Jon!” She whines half-heartedly.

“But I have to!” Jon pouts. “I have to remind you how much I love you while I can.” His voice takes a more somber note, something beneath the light lilt of it. “I can’t stand the thought of you not knowing exactly how special you are, so I have to.”

“You really don’t.” Marinette says too earnestly to be teasing. “I know how much you love me. I just hope you can feel how much I love you. Everything you said I could honestly say right back at you, you know.”

“Of course, I do.” Jon whispers, stealing a kiss. “But just because you know doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say it. I _have_ to say it. I don’t- I don’t have the words. I’m still trying to figure them out. I have to get them right, and the only way to do that is to keep trying, but also… also you deserve to be told how wonderful and beautiful and smart and talented and gorgeous and breathtaking and resplendent and kind and brave and honest and clever and-”

“You going to run out of adjectives anytime soon?” Marinette squeaks, face aflame and covered with her hands.

“Not even close!” Jon chirps cheerily. His voice falls back into that lower register, the soft one for only the space between them and no further. “But I’m serious. I have to keep saying it because you deserve to hear it. It’s different; knowing, and having it reaffirmed. I just want to keep that smile on your face.”

“You are so unbearably sweet sometimes, you know that?”

Jon snickers quietly. “So you keep telling me. But you love me.”

“I do. I absolutely do.” Marinette sighs. “It’s so weird. Just three years ago I thought Adrien was the one.”

Jon’s big eyes gleam curiously. Not in an aggressive way – in fact, it’s with a gentleness somewhere close to sympathy. “Do you still love him?” He asks.

Marinette worries her lip. “In some ways, yes.” She says honestly. “But not like this. Not anymore.” She grabs Jon’s hand and kisses the back of it to reaffirm her feelings to him. He’s not so fragile as to seriously doubt her love for him at the mention of her ex, but admitting she still loves Adrien still can’t be the easiest thing in the world, even if it’s not in a romantic sense. “Adrien and I worked. Heroism was a… a dealbreaker, I guess. If it weren’t for that, I would have probably ended up marrying him. Might even be right now, in that other life.”

Jon furrows his brow at the grass for a moment, just long enough for Marinette to get concerned, then he says, “I get it. I never got as far as you did, but… I never told you why I lost my crush on Damian, did I? Wasn’t just time, though that was part of it. That was all during high school, as I was getting more and more sick of being Superboy, but Damian was growing up. He was… well, I guess he was about where we are now, back when I was still trying to wrap my head around liking guys at all.” Jon shakes his head, smiling fondly. “When we were kids, I used to tease him about me being three years younger and six years more mature. Wonder when he got so far ahead of me.” He sighs. “Anyway, despite how hot mature Damian was-”

“You can say is. I won’t be jealous.”

Jon splutters and flushes brilliantly. “…is. Despite that, it was just increasingly clear that he’ll never be anything but a hero. As I got sick of it, that whole crush thing just…” Jon makes a motion with his hands, as if tearing something apart.

Marinette nods. “Yeah, it’s sort of like that, isn’t it? In another life, it might’ve worked, but in this one, it just… can’t. I’m just grateful that _we_ work in this life.”

“Mhmm. Me too. If it means we work, I’m glad we’re in this life. Who cares about those other lives when we’ve got this right here?”

* * *

The rest of their last semester passes by in a flash. It’s anticlimactic, all things considered, but despite jinxing it by pointing out their strange pattern of drama, nothing terrible at all happens to ruin graduation for them.

Well, there is a small scare with Conner. Hero work isn’t safe, even for Kryptonians, but some calming tea and reassurance calms Jon down quickly. It helps that he’s actually kept updated on the situation, and it’s not actually that frightening in hindsight. Both Marinette and Jon have been through far worse.

Still, it’s Conner’s first real beat down. Marinette isn’t sure if she’s inspired or horrified by how quickly, how easily, and how little he hesitates getting right back up. She has to have a few conversations with Jon about that, as the semester continues, but ultimately Conner is free to do as he likes. Marinette will worry about him, just like Jon does, but it’s clear that, at least for now, heroism is where Conner’s heart is.

She doesn’t begrudge him that. In fact, he’s ironically one of the _least_ annoying heroes she knows, and she doesn’t love those others any less. Adrien still asks her about joining him for patrol when she’s in Paris, Alya still bugs her about Tikki and what her hero name with Wayzz is and if she’ll give her an interview as the turtle hero, temporary heroes from her time fighting Hawk Moth, original and re-chosen both, ask after their kwami and usually end up inviting her out if she decides to let them go for a run (she rarely has reason to say no to letting them see the kwami, so those invites are fairly common).

Hell, even Damian is more respectful about not trying to bring her back into hero work than her Parisian friends are. Though, to be fair, she’s only assuming he even knows. She never actually tells him; she just assumes that he of all people will have her figured out, if Superman knowing doesn’t mean her identity is common knowledge within the Justice League. It doesn’t concern her either way. She’s not Ladybug anymore, and she knows Damian isn’t stupid enough to both put the Miracle Box in danger _and_ risk outing Jon and his family just by her proximity to them. Damian’s actually pretty cool, all things considered.

But the fact is that when Conner is in her and Jon’s apartment, he never even mentions his _own_ hero work. He talks about the Teen Titans sometimes, but only about them being his friends. He only talks about them in situations where, minus powers, they could be any teenagers at all. He doesn’t mention missions or training or anything of the sort. Marinette can’t help but wonder if he’s doing that on purpose, thinking of Jon’s feelings about it, or if he himself doesn’t want to bring it up. Thinking about it, this little New York apartment is probably the closest thing to normal family life the kid has, and Marinette can see the look in his eyes. She won’t be surprised if the latter is the true reason.

Regardless of reason, though, he’s a welcome addition to their home. Marinette makes sure to prepare some tea for him whenever he stops by, and even once has to wrangle a whole gaggle of rowdy, superpowered teenagers as the other Titans decide to crash the party. (They’re notably less restrained about asking about Marinette and Jon’s heroic pasts, and after a while of growing quietly more and more irritated, Conner cuts in when one of his friends asks why Jon and Marinette quit heroism to berate his friend for being intrusive, saying to stop prying into his family. Marinette shares a smile with Jon, thinking how cute it is that he’s defending them, and secretly melting inside that he’s openly including her in his family, and calmly answers the question anyway, patting Conner’s head and passing him another cup of tea. He calms down, after that, though he never seems comfortable so long as they stay on the hero topic.)

But overall, nothing groundbreaking happens. Marinette and Jon go out throughout the semester, he’s ridiculously cute like always, Adrien teases her about it good-naturedly and Marinette sees through the façade of levity to the concern and firm affirmation that he’s okay with her and Jon like always, Louise and Jon geek out, leaving Kasey and Marinette to look at each other and shake their heads like always, the boys set up more shenanigans to get David and Tamias together (“Not much time left!” Jesse insists. “We got to pull out the big guns!”) and that doesn’t happen, but something catches on fire like always.

It’s fun. Eventful but not stressful. And it all culminates in what everything over the past four years is leading to. Graduation.

The days leading up to it, Marinette is legitimately considering not walking the stage at all. Her graduation and Jon’s are a day apart, so there’s not a scheduling conflict, but it is close enough that Marinette considers just prioritizing his. After all, her friends and family are mostly overseas. A lot of them won’t be able to come anyway, whereas Jon has his whole family here. It only makes sense.

Jon disagrees, obviously, but it’s not until Jagged rolls around with half her friends from Paris already packed into his car that Marinette concedes completely.

It’s worth it just to see the look on Kasey’s face when she shows up at Marinette’s apartment to get ready for graduation together and Jagged Stone is there already fussing over her. Marinette is half-certain Kasey is about to faint, and Jagged welcoming her like an overeager puppy and starting to fuss over _her_ preparations for the ceremony doesn’t help matters.

Between Jagged, Marinette’s parents, a good majority of Marinette’s not insignificant number of friends, Kasey and Louise, Jon’s parents, grandparents, aunt, and brother, Bruce Wayne’s entire family (Marinette thinks? There’s a lot of them, and they’re all mysterious.), a smattering of other League heroes, and Jesse, Mason, David, and Tamias, their tiny apartment isn’t anywhere _near_ big enough to handle everyone. Luckily, they have no less than five absurdly wealthy people among them, and their little afterparties are held in one of their notably larger temporary residences.

But during the graduation itself, Marinette is strangely nervous. She’s certain her old nerves will come back to bite her and she’ll trip on stage and make a fool of herself. Kasey and Louise are nowhere near her in the seats, so she’s on her own down in the middle of the stadium surrounded by her peers and their families.

She bounces her knee, unable to keep still, and then her row stands, and she follows without thinking about what she’s doing, and there are pictures taken, and the next thing she knows she’s facing out at the crowd. It’s a crowd she knows, and she smiles. This crowd doesn’t ask anything of her but to collect her diploma, have her two seconds in the spotlight, and move on for the next student. This crowd doesn’t take. And warmth surges through Marinette, and she’s proud. She’s so proud that she can cry.

_I really did it._ She thinks. Cameras flash, people scream, Marinette swears she can hear Jagged, and she _swears_ his voice is amplified somehow (that’ll probably get him kicked out, if him being Jagged Stone doesn’t give him a free pass, if only the once, Marinette thinks with a giggle), and then she’s continuing on, shaking hands with some of the staff, and then she’s off the stage entirely, making her way back to her seat.

She looks at the paper in her hands – not her diploma, just a little note of a stand-in, made generally, with no names and no specifics, so that no one needs to worry about which one is handed to which student (she’ll get the real diploma after the ceremony ends) – and she feels so, so proud of herself.

Jon, when she’s released, with her true diploma in a large envelope in her hands, is the first to capture her in the biggest hug he can muster. The rest of the group surrounds them, about half of them pouting that Jon doesn’t let her go for them to hug, as Jon says in her ear, “You did it. No takebacksies.”

Marinette gets a good laugh at that.

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You know that?” Jon says quietly, intimately, despite their menagerie of onlookers. “You’ve changed my life for the better. I’m the person I am today because of you. So, thank you. You are beautiful, and so intelligent, and the most creative person in the world, and you’re everything you decide to be, and that still takes my breath away.”

Through the coos of all their eavesdropping friends, and Jesse’s wolf-whistling, Marinette chokes over just Jon’s name.

“I love you so, so much, Marinette. I will never take you for granted.”

Marinette forgoes the words that get caught in her throat and just kisses him instead.

When they separate from each other, and the others get their chance to hug her, Alya frowns at Jon. “Wait, that wasn’t a proposal?” She hisses, not nearly quiet enough for Marinette not to hear.

Jon just giggles impishly. “Why would you think that?”

“I- you- how often do you do that?”

“Remind the love of my life how talented and smart and awesome and resplendent she is?” Jon asks. “As often as I can. Duh.”

Marinette covers her face as her parents lean in to tell her that he’s a keeper, and to remind her to let them know as soon as he does propose.

As if she doesn’t already know that, or that she’ll do anything different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, this story has come to a close. Thank you all so much for reading! It was a delight to be able to share this story with you.  
> Be well, and stay safe <3


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